


Scribbles

by SketchyNebula



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bullying, Child Neglect, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, Negative Self Talk, Non-Graphic Violence, Parent Death, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Threats of Violence, Verbal Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 10:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14018625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SketchyNebula/pseuds/SketchyNebula
Summary: Soul-Mate AU  where whatever you write on your skin, it appears on your soulmate’s.Fate had assigned them to him knowing he would never muddy their relationship with his presents, but as he watched the colorful dots of happy color take up every last inch of blank space on his arms, he couldn’t help but be happy that it chose him to be lucky enough to witness it. The unfolding of this relationship was going to be something akin to a fairy tale and if that was the only light fate would ever grant Virgil then he would take it joyously.





	1. Chapter 1

Virgil had been six when he had first had the pleasure of staring down in awe at the bright colours. The tears running down his face a result of the wave of desperate relief rushing down his spine. He exhaled shakily.

He had a soulmate. A soulmate who could draw skies with puffy clouds and did so in bright marker.

He was sitting in his room, his back pressed against his headboard. The dark was only just kept at bay by a flickering night light. He watched, despite the bad lighting and the sharp edges of darkness pressing fear against him, as whoever they were patterned careful green spirals underneath the blue of a sky.

The shadows of his room seemed so far away as his hands carefully traced out the colourful lines. His chest swelled with joy at the images, the possibility, the promise of unconditional love.

Before today he had been hopelessly and helplessly resigned to the idea that he would be alone. No soulmate and too much anxiety to approach anyone else. His eyes filled with the light that these small doodles gave him.

Then, the moment was suddenly joined by someone else. Someone who vigorously worked to colour a row of red roses on the other arm and in a single instant, one soul-mate became two.

The hope Virgil had been harbouring had dropped to the pit of his stomach. A bitter taste stained his tongue and he numbly watched as the colours moved down his arms, roses and clouds melting together.

There was so much joy, so much colour and happiness and what did he have to add to any of that? The only contribution he could give, the only thing he had to be able to give, was the darkness that poured into him every night.

He only had fear.

He had nothing, no qualities that would make him redeeming in anyone’s eyes, and if the two of them could have each other then why would he jeopardize that?

Why would he force someone to deal with issues that they shouldn’t have to? To deal with him when there was someone else, someone better, right there waiting for them.

Virgil swallowed hard watching each and every design pull together perfectly. A smiley face was drawn on his wrist, the light blue smile soon joined by a bright red heart.

It figures fate, or magic, or whatever caused the stains on soulmates arms, would make sure he ended up with someone better off without him, happy and content in their own world. Of course he would honour that.

Fate had assigned them to him knowing he would never muddy their relationship with his presents, but as he watched the colorful dots of happy color take up every last inch of blank space on his arms, he couldn’t help but be happy that it chose him to be lucky enough to witness it. The unfolding of this relationship was going to be something akin to a fairy tale and if that was the only light fate would ever grant Virgil then he would take it joyously.

**Scribble**

Virgil pulled an oversize, dark hoodie over his arms that morning. The corners of the fabric hung off his body and immersed him in folds and wrinkles. He adjusted it, once, twice trying to make it work anyway he could. He was desperate to hide the colour from everyone who might try to use it against him, but he didn’t have any long-sleeved shirts. In the end he’d rather have people jeer at him for his clothing, then have his soulmates weaponized against him.

Virgil had trudged downstairs, mind filled with the fatigue he earned from staying up almost all night. When he had rounded out of the living room to stand at the kitchen doorway, he stopped, eyes wide at seeing his mother sitting at the table. She was normally gone by now. Too caught up at shift after shift at work. Too busy trying to provide for her blunder of a son in the wake of an unwanted, terrible situation.

Virgil’s bit his lip as his eyes shifted to the living room clock, he only had a few minutes to get to his bus stop. He didn’t know what he would be in more trouble for, missing the bus or raiding one of the boxes of dad’s old clothes.

“Virgil it’s almost summer.” His mother stated with a sigh, making Virgil’s head snap to her, her hands were curled into fists on the kitchen table as her eyes caught on the hoodie Virgil was wearing. Her lips thinned into a forced neutral expression, but the pain in her eyes was clear and Virgil hated himself even more for being the cause of it.

Something in Virgil’s chest clenched, eyes falling at her sharp gaze. He shrugged, making some of the fabric shift off his shoulder. He picked at the hem of it before pulling it back up, looking to see his mothers expecting face. She wanted an answer. She wanted some sort of excuse, and that made Virgil’s blood run cold.

“I-I. I just…don’t want to get a sunburn.” That was true in some respects, he was always worried about that. His pale genetics meant faster sunburns and half of first grade was, unfortunately for him, spent outside.

His mother shook her head, puffing out an annoyed sigh. She looked back down to the papers in front of her, waving her hand and dismissing him out the door. Her left hand ran through her hair, while the other stabbed at buttons on a calculator as she went through receipts.

She always seemed so tired lately.

The bus had been crowded, it almost always was, and he had always hated that. The bodies that were all pressed too close together made the space too warm and suffocating for Virgil. There were too many eyes but these days it felt like it was better that way. More people meant that he didn’t have to worry about anything yet. Too many people and a stone-eyed bus-driver meant that Darrick kept to the back with his goons instead of coming up, closer to the front and bothering him. Too many witnesses and too little breadth between the adult and them.

It normally wasn’t until they got to the school that Darrick decided to torment Virgil.

“What’s with the gross, old hoodie weirdo?” Darrick joked, and Jamie, one of Darricks new friends, and the son of their teacher, roughly grabbed the fabric of his hood, pulling Virgil to stand by all three of them.

“I-,” Virgil murmured out the beginning of a sentence that he never finished, bunching the over-sized hoodie sleeves over his hands, holding the fabric tight.

“Maybe he’s poor now because his mom is the only one left alive.” Freddie announced haughtily, smirking at Virgil. Virgil gripped his hands harder into the fabric of his hoodie, eyes dark and teeth grinding together.

“What! Your dad was a loser anyway” Darrick scoffed making Freddie snort. Jamie laughed along, and Virgil took an enraged step away from them.

“Hey!” Freddie yelled after him pulling at the back of his hoodie, “It’s just a joke!” Virgil found himself back where he started, crowded and trapped as Darrick grabbed the sides of his hood forcing him to face him.  

“Yeah, we’re just having fun!” Darrick said mockingly, and Virgil’s heart rate sped up, mind trapped in the realization that he didn’t have an escape route. “Let’s play a game, let’s play tag- You’re, It!” Darrick moved abruptly, pushing Virgil backward. Virgil stumbled, heel connecting with the edge of the sidewalk, body bracing itself as he fell on the asphalt.

His hands hit the ground first, only protected by the now roughed up hoodie sleeves. The collar slid down his shoulder again but he made no move to pull it up, head tilted to his chest as Darrick and the others laughed.

His face heated up, wanting nothing more than to hit the smiles off all their faces, and he might have, he might have turned around despite every sensible thing he knew, and made that horrible mistake. If Mrs. Smyth hadn’t called for the kids to come inside he would have found himself on the wrong side of the principles desk yet again this year.

Mrs. Smythe yelled over top of the thick crowd, completely oblivious to his situation as she almost always was. She waved the bulk of them inside, letting the stragglers catch on and follow suit. Darrick and his gang ran to the door, while Virgil attempted to weakly rub the dirt off of himself, body shaking from the adrenaline as he pulled himself off the ground and walked alone to the front of the school, numbly continuing until he got to his classroom.

The first recess of the day was after lunch. Virgil spent most recesses the same way, quietly sitting behind the wall of the north side of the school. The screams and shrieking laughter of his classmates could be heard even here, playing some game or another, absolutely crowding the playground.

His back was pressed against the bricks of the wall of the school, a spot he knew well from years of hiding from bullies and teachers alike. Here he was cut off, safe from the others. He took this time to roll the edges of his hoodie-sleeves up to his elbows eyes scanning over the skin there.

The water based markers from last nights doodles had been almost fully wiped away. The others had most likely washed their hands or arms at some point, making the colours muddy on his end.

The feeling of loneliness, and despair that this would have brought didn’t come. It was drowned out as he watched careful and precise lines slowly pull themselves into recognizable shapes on the now blank areas of his arm.

The careful, calculated precision seemed out of character for the two he had ‘met’ last night. The slow lines impossibly straight, seemingly done by a ruler, and soon his fascination was broken as another one of them started coloring in the careful shapes. The outlines of blue pen were slowly filled with bright neon colours, and Virgil felt like crying again.

Three.

Three soulmates.

Soon they were all happily doodling, and colouring. The precise lines slowly became shaky drawings as the blue ink was slowly crafting stars that decorated the empty areas, then a loud yellow highlighter coloured them in.

The forceful sounds of stomping footsteps filled his ears and he barely managed to panickedly pull his sleeves down over his hands in time as Jamie rounded a corner to see him sitting against the wall.

“Found him!” Jamie yelled over his shoulder, and Darrick sped toward them with Freddie, panting behind him, his hand gripping a half-empty juice box.

A large wave of despair hit him, making his eyes water as shock made him freeze. They had found his spot, the one place he had found respite in over the last few months. They had just taken every scrap of safety that he had.

“There you are!” Darrick yelled, running over and grabbing his sleeve, the skin just beneath it peeking out with a neon green line. Virgil felt something in his heart fall.

They had every scrap of safety but one.

His mind launched into full panic mode, running on unthought out instinct, he roughly tried to pull away from Darrick, who just held the hoodie sleeve harder. Darricks face contorted in confused anger as his normally docile prey started to fight him. He hit Darricks shoulder repeatedly before managing to pull Darricks hand off his sleeve and yanking the fabric over his skin again, trying to keep this one thing for himself. They could take everything from him but he wouldn’t let them take this.

Darrick looked at him with fury and, bunching up the fabric in the shoulder of the hoodie, he pulled Virgil to the center of the playground. Virgil’s body twisted as he tried to break Darricks grip, frantically yanking his body away from them, but this only made Darrick pull him more roughly. Eyes dark as he threw Virgil to the ground as hard as he could.

Virgil’s head hit the earth before the rest of him followed, which made him dizzy and disoriented. The ground was hard and dry from the heat of this coming summer, which meant the fall caked him in a thin layer of dirt.

“Hey Freddie let me see your juice.” Darrick said and Freddie silently handed him the Juice-box. Darrick pulled the bendy straw out of it before unceremoniously tipping it over Virgil, getting almost all of it along the front side of his pants.

This time Virgil really did start to cry as Darrick yelled at the top of his lungs,

“VIRGIL WET HIMSELF!”

Suddenly all eyes were on him, all the snickering cut into him more than the fall did and soon tears started to run through the dirt on his face. The dirt slowly streaking into muddy dark smudges.

His breathing became too panicked and harsh to be called breathing anymore, and suddenly his turmoil ridden mind pushed him to run. His legs stumbling as he pulled himself up and moved past all of them, rushing by the side of the school and moving until he managed to reach the back area that had all the trash cans. He hid there, tucking himself into a less-smelly corner on the asphalt as he pulled his hood up over his head, knowing the teacher wouldn’t notice he was gone, knowing that the others wouldn’t care to point out that he was gone.

He cried, he cried long and hard, and only when his watery eyes started tracing the patterns of colour on his arms again, glancing over lines that must have been drawn during his ordeal, did he stop.

He watched the patterns closely waiting for any of them to change, at least once more. His soul ached for the respite he had found in the others happiness, and his wish was granted in the form of lightly doodled shapes.

The blue ink trailing along and creating structured lines, not as straight as before but just as methodical.

As each line revealed new shapes his breath started to even, his body was slack and exhausted from the traumatic events and the small amount of sleep he was already running on didn’t help. His mind slowly started pulling him down until he fell into a fitful sleep.

**Scribbles**

The loud sound of motors running was what woke him up, eyes puffy and raw. A common aftermath of crying.

He stood carefully, only to find one of his legs had fallen asleep in his folded position. His adrenaline spiked again, mind clouded with multiple scenarios of missing the buses and being home late. What would his mother say to him? Would his mom even care? He couldn’t even decide which outcome would be worse.

The stain on his pants was mostly dry, and the darkness of his jeans stopped any noticeable staining but the stickiness made the inside of his thighs itch. Standing up was a slow process, legs shaking and body wobbly. His leg painfully tingled as he walked on it, but despite all his physical discomforts, he still felt a wave of relief at seeing the buses still parked near the front of the school.

He looked to see the doors of the school still closed. Sudden dread spiked in him. He had possibilities but none of them were good, It was early, too early to approach the buses without getting questioned, but if he went inside now it would just be worse. Eventually the idea of seeing anyone who laughed at him during recess outweighed any worries about being caught, not to mention he didn’t want to wait and run into Darrick and Freddie on his way to the bus. The both of them would definitely take the time to throw him into the rose bush next to the library window again.

All this running through his mind, he carefully sprinted to his bus, minding his leg, and only stopped when he was just in front of the closed doors. The bus driver’s attention was drawn to him almost immediately, eyebrow raising to his hairline at seeing Virgil’s small form, shaking and covered in dirt. He reached down to pull the switch that would open the doors.

“What are you doing out here already?” He asked, eyes piercing.

Virgil didn’t say anything back. Shifting uneasily, and closely examining every pebble that he found on the ground.

Instead of yelling at him, demanding answers or dragging him into the school to talk with the principle or his teacher, the bus driver sighed. He waved him into the bus and gestured for him to sit in the front seat that was opposite of the drivers chair.

“Sit down.” he said, in gruffly. Virgil did as he was told, even though he felt the uncomfortable itch of his pants dig into his backside at the movement.

His body was ridged as he waited for something to happen. Waiting to be yelled at, to be punished and share another tense car ride with his mom afterward. He waited for the same outcome as always, face lax in sorrow, resigned to the idea.

“Here. you look like you could use it.” Virgil paused, schooling his facial expression before slowly looking up to see the bus driver calmly extend a plastic water bottle to him. Virgil risked making brief eye-contact, seeing no ill intent there, before quickly pulling the bottle out of the bus driver’s hands and towards himself. Carefully making sure the seal had broken when he had opened it before daring to take a much needed drink.

“Now, what happened? Why are you out here so early.”

Virgil’s hand pulled the fabric at his shoulders back up. Wondering what kind of punishment he would get if they found out he hadn’t been in class since lunch.

“I-,” he croaked, his voice hoarse as he tried to pull together enough words to explain the situation. At least Darrick wasn’t here right now to lie and make sure that Virgil got in trouble. “Darrick…” He trailed off, would that matter anyway? Even if Darrick isn’t here right now it doesn’t mean that if Virgil does get him in trouble he’s not going to pay for it later. Virgil can win this one but what will he lose by doing it? His breath gave a loud heave and he was startled out of his spiraling thoughts by the driver putting a weighty hand on his shoulder.

“Now- none of that. You’re not in trouble. You’ve never been one of the troublemakers in my book.” The bus driver pulled a Clorox wipe out of a box on the floor and handed it to Virgil.

“For your face.” He stated, “it looks like you’ve been through hell son.” Virgil sniffed as he tried to forcibly calm his breathing down, only succeeding in making it worse.

He gripped the edge of the wipe, and roughly pressed it to the side of his face that wasn’t sore, making the dried mud and dirt come off in one ugly patch on the wipe. His embarrassment came back ten fold at the sight. He must look pathetic.

“Let’s start with this huh? You can call me Benny, how about you?” Virgil looked up at him before pulling the wipe away from harshly rubbing at his cheek.

“V-Virg…Virgil.” It came out hard, and was broken up by rough breathing and a scratchy throat that had been turned raw from crying. His face twisted at the sound and his eyes suddenly found his lap.

“Alright then Virgil. Nice to meet you, why don’t you take a drink of your water and then maybe we can start to try and work this out.”

Virgil’s hand shook as he moved the bottle to his lips, taking a light sip that only made his breathing calm down enough for him not to choke on it as it went down.

There was a moment of silence. The watch on Benny’s wrist clicked by to show the reality of the situation. That this wasn’t lasting years, but mere minutes, and when he had finally managed to get his breathing to listen to him enough to get out words that wouldn’t be interrupted by an uncontrollable loud inhale, they still had fifteen minutes until the actual end of school.

“Th-they pushed me down at recess.” He said, figuring that saying ‘they’ was safer than saying names. He felt his eyes go wet again, making him more frustrated than miserable at this point.

Benny nodded, handing him a tissue as stray tears moved down his cheeks. Vigil twisted the Clorox wipe in his hands. His nose stung as he gripped the offered tissue and brought it up too his face.

“Was that all that they had done son?” Benny asked, even as Virgil was fighting to get a grip. His brain screaming at him to stop being such a wimp, crying in front of someone like he needed all the attention and pity it brought.

Virgil shook his head, roughly rubbing at his eyes as if he could press hard enough to get the tears to stop.

“Did they hurt you?” He asked carefully, and Virgil shrugged. It hurt. His cheek was a little swollen where he face-planted on the dirt and he would probably have a rash down his thighs when he got home.

“Did you hurt them back?” Benny asked slowly, and Virgil looked up, eyes wide at the possibility. He shook his head, he was too small, too short and there were too many of them. Fighting back meant losing and losing meant something worse than what would have originally happened.

“As faculty of this school, I am… obligated to recommend going to an adult, perhaps your parents,” Virgil felt his face pinch at the suggestion.

“-but somehow i have a strong feeling that you wouldn’t be- okay, with doing that.” Benny shifted his body, pulling his arm rest up and turning to fully face Virgil. He exhaled through his nose as his eyes scanned up and down Virgil’s face. He rubbed his forehead a little before holding his hand out for the Clorox wipe and tissue that Virgil was anxiously tearing to bits in his hands.

Virgil handed the pieces to him and watched as he threw them away.

“Look kid,” Benny began, eyes soft as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t know what you got goin’ in your life right now. I do know that those two boys in the back give you a hard time,” Vigil looked away from him, he was just so tired. He didn’t want to do this anymore. “I also know this,” The bell rang and Virgil jumped as kids started to flood out of the school.

He watched them rush to their respective places, some kids moving to wait in the carpool area, others running over to where the buses were. His heart picked up a beat again. The silent calm he had managed to gain was broken as he realized he was about to be surrounded by other kids, while covered in dirt, face red and raw from crying.

“Virgil,” Virgil turned back at hearing his name, his eyes wide and body shifting in anticipation for a good sixty kids to suddenly swarm the bus. “Those kids out there,” Benny said, gesturing to the window, Virgil looked back out as Benny kept speaking, “they all go home with something bad. At your age, everyone is finding out what they don’t like about themselves. Those boys back there, aren’t actually sayin’ anything about you. Not when they call you names and not when they hit ya’” Virgil turned back to Benny, “make sure that, you don’t get it in your head that you have to be the victim here. If you don’t like how they make you feel, don’t let them make you feel that way. Stand up for yourself when you can. Or stand up for others if you find that easier.”

Virgil didn’t know what to say or do, but he found he didn’t have to do either, because as soon as Benny was done, crowds of kids started narrowing into a single file line as they all moved to get on the bus.

Virgil didn’t meet Darrick or Freddie’s eyes as they got on the bus, he didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Virgil stared out the window, ignoring everyone out of embarrassment, but as Benny started to pull the bus away from the school, he at least felt like he had something to think about. Something that could maybe qualify as help, even if it was just advice, and even that made him feel less hopeless, less stuck.

He turned the words over and over again in his head even when he got off the bus and watched as it drove off, taking the sound, and crowd of bodies with it. 

Only when the last echos of the motor of the bus had faded off did Virgil dare to pull his sleeve back up. His eyes raked over the images he had seen earlier until they connected with the only new neon colours there.

Something warm spread through Virgil’s chest, making the sourness of his day not sting as badly. Shaky letters spelled out a simple ‘ILY’ underneath a large red heart. Even though Virgil couldn’t read all that well yet, he at least knew what that meant, and even if it wasn’t really meant for him, the idea of people with such kindness and joy was enough to pull him out of the dark recesses of his mind. With the first and last advice he would ever receive fresh in his mind he pulled his body back into his empty house to clean himself up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- That was one of these times, when he was sitting in a bathroom cubicle holding his swollen face and idly glancing into the only corner of unobscured mirror that was there. Trying to inspect the bruise that was starting. The raw-red patch of skin, that was definitely going to turn a very interesting array of colours within the next few days, had swelled to the point that his eye had been slightly obscured.

His first day of middle school was the same as his first day of fifth grade, and his first day in day care. Kids running around with no clue what they were doing and adults standing around pretending they had a clue what was happening.

Virgil hadn’t cared that he had been late to two classes already, and they weren’t supposed to start giving out late slips until the week was up, so there was really no reason for Virgil to care to be on time either.

He had taken his sweet time walking the halls to find his classes. Sparing a second to look up and down each row of classroom doors and mentally note the new building’s nooks and crannies. At least the ones he knew he would find himself very familiar with in the next few years.

As soon as Virgil had finally figured out where he was supposed to go for history he, of course, saw Darrick and Freddie in the hallway, or he supposes it’s Ricky and Fred now. They were standing and pushing good old Jamie up against the lockers in the most cliche ‘school-bully-drama’ way that there was.

“Let go of James dumb and dumber.” Virgil stated in monotone, eyes dark and body hunched. James was the only person that could stand to talk to Virgil for any extended period of time. Of course being in even mild relation to him was enough for Ricky and Fred to decide to make James a target.

Ricky scoffed at Virgil, pulling that amused look that just made Virgil want to punch him, before dropping James and turning to him.

“Alright then Soul-less,” he said with shrug of his shoulders, “If you’re so impatient to wait your turn.” Virgil opened his mouth to retort, only to have the wind knocked out of him as Fred yanked the side of his hoodie, pulling him towards the lockers.

Fred smirked, as he pulled the collar of Virgil’s hood and threw him up against the locker doors. Virgil winced, his head hitting the metal hard enough to make him see stars. The familiar pain sinking into his skin, not even making Virgil flinch. He made no move to change what was happening, his body limp and face stony.

He glanced over Fred’s shoulder, stealing a look at where James was helplessly sitting on the floor, his eyes down-turned and face pulled in a grimace. Ricky’s face was morphed into unimpressed, fury, glaring Virgil down like he was an animal that could be subdued and domesticated with intimidation alone.

Virgil braced himself, pulling his chin up as he made eye contact with Fred and in response Fred pulled back his fist.

Virgil wasn’t fit, he could only fight decently in a one against one, something he had found out the hard way at the end of third grade. The echoes of that fight still remained as two scars down his back and the memory made him smart enough, cautious enough, to keep his focus on keeping his daily beating from turning into a hospital visit and nothing more.

Fred’s fist caught in the air for a split second, and in that moment the bell rang out, signaling that all of them were late for their classes.  There was a moment of silence where all parties were just staring at each other but in the end the assault stopped before it really began.

Ricky huffed motioning Fred to follow him down the hall, Fred nodded before turning back to Virgil. He pulled back his fist again, not even giving Virgil time to brace himself as he landed a good hard punch right to VIrgil’s cheek. Virgil’s dizzy head slammed into the locker once more before Fred dropped him on the floor, the footsteps of both him and Ricky fading off as Virgil tried to regain his vision.

Virgil blinked as the blood in his face throbbed and he puffed out a pain filled breath. His hand moved to hold his face, the eye on the unhurt side of his face looking up just in time to see James was standing above him. James’s face was grim, and he held out a hand for Virgil to take. Virgil ignored it, heart twisting. Here he was, pathetically laying back and taking another beating and despite everything James was still offering help.

Virgil’s back was ridged as he used his legs to haul up his body weight in order to lean heavily on the lockers. An exhale coming out in a pained grunt. He moved to poke at the back of his head, his heart jumping at the feeling a bump there.

“Why do you do that?” James sighed out. Virgil hesitantly forced himself to push off the lockers. His eyes glued to the wall across the room as he held his hand there, brushing against the back of his head, Virgil shrugged before walking over to a nearby water fountain. He ran the cold water against his hands before pressing them and what little coolness he could to his cheek.

“If you’re talking about first grade agai-,” he began, eyes still lowered to the metal of the water fountain.

“No!- i mean… yeah-I know i remember,” James shakily exhaled before he brought his hands up to rub his palms into his eye sockets. He dropped them to his sides again, body slumping as he bent down to pick up his backpack. His eyes were so tired when he straightened himself, Virgil couldn’t help but slump further forward. A frown creasing his face as James continued to talk. “I meant why do you always refuse my help.”

I don’t deserve help.

Virgil’s internal monologue was instant. His self-hatred and insecurity mentally answered for him, mind filling in blanks he would have been happier to leave empty. He pulled the fabric of his hoodie back into place. It was still slightly over-sized but the sleeves only came down to mid-hand now-a-days and he had filled out the collar a while back.

“Why does anyone do anything ever.” Virgil asked, not really directing the question at James. He shook the water on his hands off, and James quickly started walking down the hall, most likely to his next class.

The one Virgil made him late too.

“You gonna skip class.” James asked as Virgil followed in the same direction as James, and Virgil rolled his eyes. As if that was even a question. James laughed before shrugging “i mean- you know the whole day!”

Virgil paused, his thoughts too far away from him right now to make a decision.

“Probably.” He said as be brought his hand up once more to check his cheek.

“That’s gonna bruise.” James stated and Virgil’s fingers moved to hover just over the area, the tickle of the light touch against his skin was abrasive as the injury protested even the simplest contact. His face twitched, before he shrugged. Another black eye for the collection. This one was what, his eleventh one.

“How’s you’re scholarship going?” Virgil asked, his mind and body tired of talking about pain. Well, tired of experiencing pain mostly, though talking about it was starting to get monotonous as well.

“Oh- um, it’s going, I mean i have all of the requirements on time so far…” James trailed off, mentally ticking things off in his head, mouthing a few words as he nodded to himself before turning back to Virgil. “Yeah! Just about everything! If this goes right then by high-school I’ll be in France!”

Virgil smiled at James’s happiness, attempting to reflect the light back at him. Virgil was never good at doing that in the first place and his hurt eye twitched a little at the pain trying to stretch his facial expression.

Virgil knew it was only a matter of time before James left. His chest filled with sorrow at the knowledge. He didn’t really know James well enough to call him a friend, but he did know him well enough to be sad to see him go. Not that Virgil’s emotional distress is warranted by any means.

“Anyway- my class should be down that hall-,” James started unsurly and Virgil felt a fluttering in his chest.

“You wanna skip with me?” Virgil asked suddenly, his dizzy head begging him not to be left alone. He bodily turned toward James, hesitantly looking into the others eyes.

“Um.. nnnno i mean. Sorry- i have French class next and-” Virgil slouched, hunching back into himself. He waved his hand at James, nodding his head, the guilt swelling. Soulmate language barriers were an unfortunate part of being human, and who was Virgil to deny James communication with his. He tried for a wry smile as he gestured to the upcoming door.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright i hear you. Go study hard and make True-Love Travels pay for your plane ticket to meet your dream-girl.” James blushed, sputtering for a second before quickly turning on his heels and moving to round the corner. Virgil laughed under his breath, eyes sad as his lips upturned.

As James turned he left his back visible to Virgil, and Virgil’s eyes connected with three small hearts dotted along James’s elbow. The loopy lines were familiar only because he had seen them dotting James’s skin before.

Virgil’s face dropped and somehow, for whatever reason, something in the pit of his stomach turned sour at the sight. A normal image bringing devastation in its wake. All traces of a smile was quickly gone from his face and his fingers instinctively pulled at his sleeve. The head injury and emotional upset making Virgil feel sick to his stomach.

He pulled his hood up to hide his swelling face, carefully minding his bruising cheek, as he turned to make his way to the single stall bathrooms on the other side of the school. Hoping to clean himself up, or at least feel safe for a little while.

As he walked, he watched each classroom. Sometimes glancing in to see the faces he’d been passing by since forever cropping up among new faces. Faces that he’d have the pleasure of passing by every day for the next three years. The three shitty years before the next four even shittier years start.

Then, of course the rest of his shittiest-of-all life beginning after that.

As he finally got to the, thankfully vacant, stall he opened the door, eyes locking with the mirror almost immediately, cringing at his pale and lanky appearance. It seemed that puberty had just been making him scrawnier.

He wasn’t good looking by any stretch of the words, being as short and pale as he was, and he definitely didn’t need a perfect mental image of how pathetic he looked. So, as always, his hoodie came off and was unceremoniously thrown to cover up the main areas of the mirror. Standing in just his tank top, he let a slow exhale out of his nose. He Awkwardly sat on the toilet taking a deep breath before allowing his eyes to snap down and mentally connecting the different scrawls of his soulmates with each of their names.

Logan’s handwriting was printed in the same blue pen ink as always, the short to-do lists and thoughts he had during class were quickly scrawled out on their wrist or the back of their hands. The current lists were faded, some words missing entirely and others just barely there.

Patton’s handwriting was slightly blocky but he dotted all his I’s with hearts, (though Virgil is pretty sure that he only does that for them.) He always made sure to write little reminders for the others and usually writes a small quote on their shoulder area, today’s quote was ‘Love yourself. It is important to stay positive because beauty comes from the inside out - Jenn Proske’ Which made Virgil smile ruefully.

“That’s probably why I’m so fucking Ugly” he whispered to himself, the words dangerously echoing back at him in the small space.

Roman’s handwriting is bigger than most but held the loopy charm that cursive handwriting has. Though he spent less time writing and more time filling the blank area of their lower arms with drawings, he would occasionally join Logan in the occasional poem.

Their own names had been the first words that had ever graced his arms, and as each of them moved through the education system those words increased in number.

Soon Virgil had been silently privy to full conversations, finding out that Roman’s favourite colour was satin, Patton loved to bake and that Logan had a strange love of Crofters Jam.

Virgil read every scrap of information a hundred times over. Keeping each aspect of them as close to his heart as he could. The days and years went on and Virgil’s shame for doing so crept up his spine, brewing worse each day that passed.

Weeks and months where he would force himself to go cold turkey. Pulling and picking at his sleeves, iching for just a reminder that he was loved.

But he wasn’t really loved was he?

The light they gave off freely for each-other was staggering, and here he was greedily soaking up what he couldn’t return. It was a kind of sick stealing, where he was intruding on happy endings that he had never had the permission to see unfold.

He doesn’t read the messages on his arms anymore, or at least, he tries not to read them often. Only when he’s running on a deficit of light. Only when everything has gotten to the point that it feels like Virgil has nothing but pain left in his heart.

Only when the only other alternative seems to be death.

That was one of these times, when he was sitting in a bathroom cubicle holding his swollen face and idly glancing into the only corner of unobscured mirror that was there. The raw-red patch of skin, that was definitely going to turn a very interesting array of colours within the next few days, had swelled to the point that his eye had been slightly obscured.

A loud knocking on the door startled him, making him croak out a ‘just a minute’ before tensely pausing. He couldn’t face anyone like this, hell he couldn’t even handle looking himself in the mirror, and that’s when his face is in decent shape.  
Virgil pulled himself back up to his feet, leaning against the sink and running the water. He pulled a few paper towels off the roll and wet them, pressing it to his face and holding it there.

A flash of colour and a short paragraph of words on the bottom of his left wrist had him turning his attention back to his skin. The writing was fairly recent according to the vivid, unsmudged colour. The red ink meant that it was one of Roman’s messages. The single light blue check-mark next to it meaning Logan hadn’t read it yet, but Patton had.

Virgil shifted his hold on the paper towels uncomfortably, pulling his right hand up to hold them as he slowly pulled his left wrist away from his face to be able to read the message.

Something twisted in his gut at each word, suddenly wishing he hadn’t read it. Wishing he didn’t have to have something else to agonize over for the rest of the day.

‘Let’s meet! Cedar Cafe 11:00 saturday?’

Virgil felt something clench in his stomach, mind turning the words over.

They were meeting, they were going to start to see each other and talk to one another and soon they wouldn’t need to write anymore.

Virgil was going to be left alone again. The brief period of time where he had nothing, no soul-mate drawings and no light had been so long ago he didn’t know how he had once survived that way. Soon the colours would stop and the term “Soulless” would suddenly become an appropriate insult. Even if he technically had a soulmate, or in his case soulmate’s, would that matter?

It would be so easy to forget that. Without the ink, without each doodle and note to remind him of the warmth the glow of happiness gave, who’s to say he wouldn’t be able to just brush these last few years off as a sad hallucination.

Virgil’s breathing wasn’t coming, the shaky tipping feeling making him stumble as he turned quickly, vomiting in the toilet.

He settled on the floor, leaning against the wall next to the toilet, legs haphazardly splayed in front of him.

Watching them these last few years had been his only respite from a turbulence filled life, but he would be selfish to try and force that. What kind of soulmate would he be if he jeopardize their happiness for his? Not that he could do anything to stop them in the first place. They’ll meet, fall in love the way fate intended it, and Virgil will be alone. Also, the way fate intended it.

Pulling himself off the floor Virgil had a new resolve in his short list of mental rules, to put their happiness before his, since they have the possibility, the capacity to be happy in the first place.

He rinsed out his mouth before tugging the tap to turn the water off.  He tugged his jacket off the mirror before shakily pulling it back on himself. Covering the words and notes that will soon be washed away with time, taking the only hints that there was light in the world with them. His eyes burned as he yanked his hood back over his head, opening the door.

Virgil jumped at seeing a teacher standing just outside of it, foot tapping impatiently and arms crossed.

“Well, you sure took your sweet time, what are you doing out of class?” Her strong voice irritated Virgil’s concussion addled eardrums making him cringe.

“Uuuh- bathroom?” Virgil said, shoulders hunching as he slouched further into his hood.

“Bathroom huh? Do you have a bathroom pass?” She crossed her arms and tried to hold the ‘im the adult in charge here’ power over him but Virgil only felt the helpless bubbles of resignation in his stomach. He was so tired.

“Nope.” He said, shrugging his shoulders.

Her eyes lit with a fury he had seen in many adults before her. The Indignation of being opposed, disrespected, by a ‘no-good-kid’ was most definitely rising in her chest. She grabbed his upper arm and pulled him to follow her.

“The principle might have something to say about that!”

He gritted his teeth at the contact, her hand digging into his already bruised skin in a harsh way. His mind flooded with his mother’s reaction, whether or not they’d call her. Whether or not she would be forced to drive from work to the school once again because of something he did, because of his own stupid mistakes.

Of course they would call her. That’s always what happened. This always went one way and his fears only increased with that knowledge.

There was no room for hope in these situations, and as the teacher that Virgil had never met before pulled him into the office, he was able to make eye contact with the office lady with stony apathy.

“My goodness! Mrs. Higgs what happened to his eye!” She said, startled eyes raking over his face with pity.

Mrs. Higgs’s face fell to one of confusion before she pulled him to turn towards her her hands gripping his upper arms. One hand moved to grip his hood and he ducked his head as she pulled it off.

The brightness in the area hit him full force and he sighed in pain, eyes squinting against the heavy lights.

Mrs. Higgs let out a small hiss at the sight of his uncovered face before her mouth thinned into a straight line. She suspiciously looked at his eye, before taking his chin in her hands and turning his head so she could get a better look at it.

He winced, pulling away from her and stumbling back on his heels. He pulled the hood back up, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I saw this boy walking down the hallways, and found him skipping class by locking himself in one of the bathrooms.” Mrs. Higgs said, eyes shifting back to the lady behind the desk. Her face morphed into one of surprise before she nodded her head.

“Well, Mr. Tanner won’t be here for a little while, I’ll get an ice pack from the nurse, you sit there alright dear.” Virgil turned to look at her as she gestured to one of the seats in front of the principles door, before quickly walking out of the room.

Mrs. Higgs left as soon as the office lady was back. Virgil pressed the offered ice pack to his face, sitting on an uncomfortable chair, and feeling miserable.

When the principle came they called his mother.

**Scribbles**

Virgil sat, mouth pinched trying to hide the irritated glower that he wanted to throw at Mr. Tanner. He slumped into the uncomfortable chair feeling the occasional glance of his mother burning into his side. Mr. Tanner rubbed his forehead turning pages in Virgil’s file and glancing at him every now and again.

“Well, it’s the first day of school, so we’re not going to be punishing you, however i am concerned about your… track record…” he said trailing off and closing the file. He pushed it up his desk, and Virgil’s eyes followed the movement, lingering on the file before snapping back to staring at a random spot on the wall of the room. Mr. Tanner made eye contact with Virgil’s mother, who was sitting tensely mouth twitching threatening to turn into a frown.

A disappointed frown.

Virgil was, once again, faced with another adult who wanted to talk about his paper trail. The principle wanted to talk about his ‘track record’ the same way every teacher, every parent, and every councilor wanted to talk about his ‘track record’. His file a thick manila folder with 20 something pieces of paper that all no doubt have ‘violent tendencies’ written across them in all caps.

Here he was again, and once again instead of asking where he got the bruises from, instead of asking his input on why he wasn’t in class, they wrote ‘unexcused absence’ down on a piece of paper adding the footnote of ‘violent altercation’ since they didn’t know where the facial injury was from. Treating it like their pieces of arbitrary paper were supposed to work magic and fix Virgil’s life.

“It seems that there are numerous cases of fighting and disruptive behaviour from elementary school…” Virgil tuned him out, he had heard all of it, every variation of this discussion that was under the sun. Mr. Tanner would talk to his mom with the judgment he had heard in the voices of everyone that didn’t know all she did for him. Would do the ‘i hope your attitude has changed for this upcoming year’ speech and handshake, but mentally they’ve all filed him away to some youth correctional facility.

There was never any point to this, nothing ever changed for good and if it changed for bad than Virgil would just have to get over it. Face it head on.

A sad pang spread through his chest, the words he had read in the bathroom burning into the back of his eyelids. Soon he wouldn’t even have them to soften the blow of bad days. As he glanced at his mother’s disheveled appearance he wondered if he would ever be able to get over that.

Soon the ‘adults’ were standing, and Virgil grabbed the straps of his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. His mom shook the principles hand, face holding indifference with a careful pinch of her lips.

“I hope that the rest of the year will go better for you.” Mr. Tanner said before he held out his hand for Virgil to shake, Virgil glanced at it, eyes hardening before he turned to open the door for his mother.

**Scribbles**

The ride back to the house was tense. Silent and eerie as the only thing that was heard was the hum of the car’s engine.

When they had made it out of the nightmare of a traffic situation near the carpool area of the middle school, his mother had exhaled through her nose, finally attempting to speak.

She still wouldn’t look at him.

“What happened to your face?” She asked, voice hoarse. Virgil shrugged his shoulders, his eyes scanning over the scenery passing them by.

They spent the rest of the ride in silence before they finally pulled up to the house. It standing in all it’s half-fallen apart glory. His mom was tired and frustrated, going straight to the pantry when they got home and pulling out a beer bottle before moving to go sit on the worn couch. The garbled noise of the tv turning on and echoing around the house, drowning the empty space.

Virgil pulled himself upstairs, eyes not even ghosting over his mother as he did so. His shoulders didn’t relax until he passed the threshold into his bedroom. He left the lights off, head still crying out with the effects of his concussion, shutting the door and locking it immediately.

He threw his backpack, aiming for the bed only for it to bounce onto the floor, making him sigh out of his nose as he bent down to pick up the textbooks that fell out. He, shoved the books back into it before sliding it on the bed, staying on his place kneeling on the floor.

He sat for a moment before hesitantly reaching under the bed, pulling out a beat up composition notebook. A small overstuffed thing, full of folded loose-leaf sheets with his ugly smeared handwriting all up and down the pages.

He reached up, pushing his hand into a pocket of his backpack and pulling out a chewed up pen.  Leaning back and sitting against the bed as he opened to a page. He pushed his right hand into his hoodie sleeve before daring to grip the pen and start to write.

When the echoes of the TV suddenly stopped, Virgil’s hand stilled, his face falling as he waited for a sound, a thump, any sign of the tell-tale movements of his drunk mother trying to make her way to her bedroom. The night, however, did not deliver. The house silent and still in a way that made Virgil nervous.

He, yanked himself to stand up before pulling his hoodie on, ready to face a situation he had been in a million times before.

Virgil crossed the threshold of the hallway, his bare feet going from scratchy carpet to the cold of the wood floor, making his hazy mind jolt. His mother was fading in and out of sleep too drunk to stand, and as he walked further into the room he smelt the pungent scent of piss.

He rounded around the couch, moving his hands under her shoulders he pulled her arms toward him, just managing to stand her on her feet before carefully heaving the dead weight onto his thin shoulders. He supported her weight and carefully took the first step.

His mother mumbled out a barrage of indecipherable words at the general area around him. Her voice was slurring and her body too warm to the touch. Making it to the bathroom, Virgil’s hands worked to pull off her work clothes, the scrubs and name-tag still in place from last night and this morning.

He pulled her to the shower, filling up the tub and putting the drain stop in place. He let her use his arms to brace herself and lower her body into the water but as he moved to pull his arms back her hand came to grip them tighter. Her previously vacant stare was suddenly fixed on him. His heart stopped in his chest as she gave him a meaningful look.

“I-Is- it’s a good thing that-a yooou don’t have a soul mate.” She said, nodding sagely to herself before patting the black stain, that covered just above her left breast. The colour scarring the area over her heart in a single slash. “It is- not fun.” She shook her head, eyes locking with Virgil’s.

Virgil managed a smile back to her, and when her eyes fall to the wayside again, her moment of clarity passing, all he could think about was how much more of a disappointment he could possibly be if she ever found out the truth.

He helped her dry and dress, supporting her weight when it seemed she was about to stumble and fall, and by the time she was safely tucked in bed Virgil had burned off about two hours of time off his concussion filled night.

Four more until six am where he would have to get ready to go to school and walk around the halls in a sleep-deprived haze. Joy.

Virgil moved back into the bathroom, draining the tub and re-ordering the towels when he passed by the mirror.

He paused, his memory traveling back to the school bathroom. His hands slowly going to rest at the edge of his zipper. He zipped and unzipped the top of his hoodie a few times. Going back and forth, changing his mind once then back again before making eye contact with himself in the bathroom mirror. His mouth turned down, yanking the zipper and pulling the sleeves down his shoulders.

The words were clustered in the same area on his wrist, all of them ripping into him.

‘I can go!’ From Patton

‘I am free that day as well’ From Logan

Each sentence accompanied with two check-marks. Meaning everyone had read the notes and they were all caught up on the plan.

The crushing weight of simple words like ‘let’s meet!’ shattering his heart into pieces.

The bile of self-resentment and guilt turned inside of him at his own emotions.

They were allowed to be happy.

They had to be happy.

The situation was a good one no matter how it affected Virgil.

He suddenly wondered how well drinking actually worked to numb pain.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His mind worked over-time considering whether or not running to the other end of the building would be worth it, but as the fatigue from his sleepless night pressed into him, he decided it wasn’t. Today wasn’t going to be the day he decided to be punctual.Virgil’s English class was all the way across the school from his math class, so it was a long walk. Oh, and he also had it after math and that didn’t help his mood either.

There was a moment where he was sure that he would be late. His eyes peering into an empty classroom and checking the time, only to find that he technically only had three minutes to get there. His mind worked over-time considering whether or not running to the other end of the building would be worth it, but as the fatigue from his sleepless night pressed into him, he decided it wasn’t. Today wasn’t going to be the day he decided to be punctual.

By the time he had walked through the door to the classroom it had been a few minutes after the late bell. The class was all there, all 30 of them visibly acting every bit of ‘straight out of elementary school’ as one would suspect. Fortunately for Virgil’s attendance record, the teacher wasn’t there.

Unfortunately for Virgil’s eardrums, the teacher wasn’t there.

The teacher’s desk was vacant, but clean with not a page of paper on it. That was probably just as well, since anything left unattended was almost certain to be looked through.

Virgil’s head was aching again. The windows poured bright light into the room and his head throbbed in pain with each noise that echoed in the class.

He moved to sit in the back, an area that was a little farther away from the windows and a little more closed off from the rest of the students. He sat, before laying his post-concussion head down. His arms wrapping around his head in order to try to muffle some of the sensory information.

He ignored all the kids around him, and they thankfully did the same, but somehow the mess of kids, middle school boys running around and girls talking loudly, made him feel even more closed off.

More isolated from everyone around him.

These kids ran around, laughing, with the privilege of being able to care about nothing more than homework and friendships. They weren’t nursing bruises and hiding concussions. They weren’t carrying drunk parents to their rooms at night and crying when new messages were written on their wrists.

He sniffed, the emotions swirling in him were too complex for his tired mind and he pulled his head off the desk before he could fall asleep. As he lifted it up, a piece of paper came with it, stuck to the side of his cheek.

As the paper floated back to the desk he looked around, seeing that a piece of lined paper was lying on the surface of each desk. A single word was written on the board, ‘Scribbles’, and just as a dawning sense of comprehension and dread filled him the teacher decided to make an appearance.

The teacher quickly bustled in the room, a familiar face that made Virgil stare unabashedly, eyes locking with the last person he wanted to see.

“Everyone sit down! I am sorry I’m late, it’s a long walk here from anywhere else in the school. That, however, does not mean you are allowed to descend to chaos in my absence.” She leveled the class with a glare. “I’m Mrs. Higgs, and I’m your English teacher.” Virgil felt his face flush, sinking into his desk. Of course she was. In his life there was no way that he wouldn’t have to see her everyday for a year.

“Today, we’re going to be working on a free-writing prompt, some children are better at creative writing while others are better at essays.” She turned moving to grab a few papers from her desk and having everybody pass one back, “It’s in my opinion that both aspects of writing and literature are important even if the curriculum only favours one, so I like to give the creative writers in the class space to like language arts and use it as a supplement to improve their writing. Everyday when you come in, there will be a writing prompt on the board, you will write for the first fifteen minutes of class and turn it in after for a daily grade, if you are absent you won’t have to make it up and it won’t negatively affect you. this isn’t supposed to be a stressful activity it’s just to expand your mind and get credit for doing it. I am handing out the syllabi and then we are to get started on our prompt,”

As the papers moved from hand to hand, Virgil’s eyes helplessly looked at the prompt. Of all the things he hated the most the list topper had to be sharing his writing. He wasn’t any good, and there was never any reason that anybody in his life had to know anything about the personal inner workings of his mind.

“We’re going to start the fifteen minutes now, try your best to stay writing the entire time- go.”

Virgil’s hand shook as he glanced from the board back to his paper. Idea’s bouncing around his head, none of them he felt comfortable with a teacher reading.

Especially a teacher that hated him.

He gripped the pencil hard before he settled for a compromise. His hand was hesitant as he wrote the first words, mind halting every few letters before his brain started to flow into the mindset. His hand movements slowly evening out, moving to weave emotions in fictional scenes.

He pulled real events out of context and projected them on a fictional world. A world that Virgil wouldn’t have to be responsible for later. Taking what he itched to write for the prompt, what he itched to tell the world, to scream at every teacher that looked at him like he was a criminal, and pressing it against a safe grey area. Somewhere in the middle a place where Virgil can adamantly deny being related to any of the words that graced the page.

Virgil wasn’t done writing by the time the teacher asked them to pass their papers forward, but he almost threw his sheet at the person in front of him. Just wanting this to be over.

The rest of the class was uneventful. The only other notable event being when Mrs. Higgs’s raised an eyebrow at him during roll-call. Virgil would have nodded off after that, but he was tense. His eyes staring forward the entire class.

That didn’t mean he was paying attention at all though. He felt far away from the situation, away from the room and the light and the pain. All until he found himself jumping at the sound of the bell. His body temporarily going rigid before he moved to reach down under his desk. His body buzzed with nerves, antsy to get out of here, to spare himself the embarrassment of having to be around Mrs. Higgs for any longer.

He slung his backpack over his shoulder, students brushing his side as they moved pass him to get to the door, but just as he reached it himself Mrs. Higgs called him back. One of her hands clutching his free-writing assignment in her grip and beckoning him over.

“Don’t worry, You’re not in trouble.” She asserted to him as he glanced at her warily. His cheeks burning.

She motioned him to take a seat in a desk in front of her, “This will only take a moment, however I will write you a pass to get to your next class.” Her lips scrunched, brows furrowing in a stern way.

Virgil fidgeted as the flash of that memory passed through his brain. His mind was flooded with all the other things it brought with it. Saturday was fast approaching, only two days away as the week quickly ends. Everything that that meant was fresh in his mind. He swallowed hard and gripped his hands together in his lap.

“Virgil, you’re writing is- far beyond your grade level.” She said, eyes running over the page again before carefully placing the writing down on the desk and pushing it toward him. “Have you ever thought of taking up writing as a future career choice?”

Virgil can’t say he’d ever really thought about his future, he always assumed he wouldn’t have one to begin with.

He pulled the paper back towards him a full 10/10 points graced the corner of the page in red ink and he shrugged. The thought never crossed his mind.

“There’s a writers competition, an annual event that i think i want you to participate in,” she cleared her throat, “though i must admit i have never chosen a participant this early in the year-” Pulling a few papers out of one of the locked drawer of her desk, she circled around to him handing him the papers, a list of careers and different applications of writing was there, along with a ‘Young-Authors Competition’ registration form, the top page of the stack had a bolded title of ‘what you can do with writing’.

Mrs. Higgs nodded to the pages, “I recommend doing some research on some possible careers in the meantime, only if you’re interested of course. perhaps a journalist, or even maybe an author?”

Virgil’s face was awestruck, hesitantly he shrugged. His brain backtracking turning the words over in his head. Trying to find any alternative meaning in them than the one he was being presented with. Anything that would make more sense.

His writing wasn’t good by any stretch of the word. It was jumbled and unthought out, each word was meaningless, a product of his mind spewing out emotions that he trapped inside himself over the years. His pulse increased at the very idea of a competition.

A writing competition with people who spent their lives learning how to be good writers. Students who wanted to write since they were young and not someone like him. Him who only wrote because he never seemed to be able to speak.

His shaking was visible now and Mrs. Higgs reached out, hand resting over top his clenched fists, trying to get them to still. The warmth and weight of it made him look up at her concerned expression.

“The competition isn’t until December, you have time to think about it dear.” She said softly, “I, of course, won’t and can’t force you to submit something against your will, and I for one think you are all a little young to be able to fully decide what you want to be in life.” She said gesturing to the pages she had given him, “but it’s better to be well informed and say no than be poorly informed and say yes.”

She patted his hands, before pulling away and moving around the desk, hunching over it to quickly scrawl out the information on a hall pass, ripping it out in one fast motion and handing it to Virgil.

“However, i would at least think about it.” She finished eyes imploring as she turned away from him.

Virgil swallowed hard, standing slowly before his body went into overdrive. He pulled his backpack off the floor, collecting his items and almost running out of the room. The concerned eyes of Mrs. Higgs following him as he went.

Virgil moved out of the way of oncoming hallway goers, ducking through the hall as he made his way to flow onto the correct side.

His fingers nervously tear the edges of the hall pass he was given. He was at lunch, but he appreciate the sentiment more than anything else. Most teachers didn’t care enough to write him one anymore.

Which Virgil wasn’t blaming them for. When someone is as consistently late as he is there came a time where there wasn’t a point.

Virgil’s hand pressed into his pocket, shoving the pass deep inside with it, and he held the small stack of papers in his left hand, eyes glancing over the words and dates.

The bodies moving in the hallway brushed up against him in an uncomfortable ‘sardine can’ way. Shoulders hitting against his until one particularly hard shove had his side slamming into the row of lockers beside him. The disorientation was instant, and the snickering that followed confirmed Virgil’s immediate hunch. He angled his head to see Ricky and Fred’s backs as they passed down the hallway. Laughing to themselves.

Virgil’s hands balled themselves into fists, crumpling the papers, as he kept walking. Hunching into his frustration, and the brand new ache in his shoulder, he walked until he was able to carefully and discreetly duck into the school library. A small area that attempted to tightly fit book shelves and open desks together.

Virgil spared a glance at the librarian at the front desk, he managed to give them a small smile despite his mood, you always wanted to be on a librarians good side. His hands pressed the papers to his chest so nobody else in the room would catch a glimpse of their content, before he moved to round behind a row of bookshelves that were further back.

He hadn’t eaten in the cafeteria since his first week of first grade, the memory of having chocolate milk poured down his back was humiliating enough that he was willing to take steps to not have it repeated.

Virgil pressed his back into the bookshelf there, the knobs of his spine aching uncomfortably. He slid to sit down, hidden in the small nook that he had found. He dragged his backpack into his lap, his legs stretching out in front of him.

Unzipping the top of his pack with one swift motion, he pulled out his sad, sad, sack lunch. A bag that he’s pretty sure he just threw some bread and an apple in that morning.

Virgil frowned at the memory of that morning. His mother having sat silently in the kitchen, nursing a hangover, probably not even knowing that she shared a memory with him from the night before. A memory that his brain couldn’t help echoing back at him when things were quiet. The words ‘I’m glad you don’t have a soulmate’ making him feel guilty and paranoid all at once.

He hunched into his corner, not bothering to touch the bread as he bit into the apple. His unoccupied hand pushed the papers roughly into the backpack before zipping it back up and tossing the pack to the wayside.

“Hey, Verg?” James’s voice whispered out, starling Virgil, who inhaled a bit of apple as James rounded around a shelf. “Guess what!”

Virgil panicked for a moment, coughing before shrugging, his mouth full. James laughed, nodding his head “i feel that! anyway- you know how Mrs. Kace used to be the AP French teacher at the High-school?” Virgil paused, startled at the sudden topic of conversation. He slowly managed a shrug.

He typically didn’t make a habit of talking to teachers, at least not as a pastime, and especially those he didn’t have to directly deal with.

“Well, okay - i guess long story short- I have a chance to win a Trip to France under an exchange student program!”

Virgil’s chest was suddenly tight, his eyes wide in shock before he swallowed hard and tried his best to smile. His face split into more of a grimace.

“Yeah! I might get to be with Sarah!” James gripped his hands together, eyes dancing over the written exchanges they shared on his arms all in french.

Virgil, felt the bit of apple be was able to swallow sour in his stomach, he nodded jerkily to James.

“That’s cool.” He said, his voice weaker than normal.

“Right! Sarah says her parents are more than willing to house both of us and my mom says that if we present out soulmate status they will most likely give me citizenship,” James’s voice was hard pressed to continue to be a whisper, his voice slowly rising in volume as he continued his small, hopeful rant. “-I mean it’s France they’re like the epicenter for soulmate finding resources, you know, as long as i can prove i can speak French well and yadda yadda whatever, I’ll be able to meet her! Isn’t it great!”

It was. He was happy. It was so good for James. He had worked his entire life for something like this. Deciding to be a French translator in second grade when they had first started to write to one another and found out about the language barrier they had to overcome.

He was going to be with his soulmate. In a school that wouldn’t immediately mentally connect him with the outcast and ostracized him in turn. A school where Virgil wasn’t ruining his only chances at being a normal kid.

Why can’t Virgil just be happy for him, why can’t he just be supportive.

Why can’t he just let his soulmates be happy without him.

“That’s amazing, I’m so glad you two- I’m glad you guys get to see each other and stuff.” Virgil said, eyes void, stony and guarded and James’s smile slowly faded, eyes filling with recognition,

“Oh i am such a dick.” He said, a grimace pulling at the sides of his mouth, “dude, i’m sorry, i totally forgot, here i am telling you all about Sarah when everyone knows-,” He paused voice lowering, even quieter than a normal whisper now, and leaning in, as if what he was saying wasn’t common knowledge to every kid in this school district “- everyone knows you don’t have a soulmate” James tried to look Virgil in the eye but Virgil just shook his head.

“No, it’s fine.” Virgil shrugged and James just shook his head back,

“No it’s not, I just- i can’t even imagine-…” Virgil looked at James eyes imploring him to change the subject.

“Anyway?” Virgil said, voice more neutral than his previous tone.

James hesitated before he continued “Anyway… I- I’m just saying that if my french essay gets chosen for this thing in November i’ll be gone by next semester so…”

Virgil nodded his head. That was it. He suddenly felt like he didn’t have anything left to lose anymore.

**Scribbles**

Virgil’s fingers raked through his hair, grimacing. It seemed to be greasy no matter how often he washed it.

He met the mirror with a blank stare. His eyes had started to form light bags under them from inconsistent and sometimes nonexistent sleep. His reflection looked as tired and pale as he remembered it.

The surge of fear that he felt while his shaky hands pushed his hoodie back over the mirror was enough to make him question why he was here. Standing around and holding up the only bathroom in a comic shop near the Cedar cafe.

Who was he kidding?‘Strip’s Spot’ was a geek safe haven that was literally right across the street from the hipster paradise that was the Cedar Cafe. It’s large glass doors and windows making the comic shop a safe viewing spot.

It was stalking, basically. Virgil recognized this to the point that it was almost tormenting him. He was stalking them now.

Or maybe he was always stalking them. His arms and hands containing personal information about them that they wouldn’t normally have shared with anyone they didn’t trust. The question ‘would they trust him’ bouncing around his head was promptly answered by every dark part of his mind, the resounding ‘of course not’ breaking him down a little more.

“But we’re soulmates” he whispered to himself eyes settling over the fabric of his hoodie. “We’re- we are, soulmates.” He stated to himself shakily.

They have to love him.

Their soulmates.

“emphasis on the ‘have to’ part” he mumbled to himself, echoing his thoughts out loud. His mind wavering. He pulled his hoodie away from its place precariously balancing on the mirror, pulling it around his shoulders. He thumbed the sleeves, eyes catching another unwanted glimpse of himself from the mirror before he turned to unlock the bathroom door.

As his hand wrapped around the metal and he spared a moment to try and pull on an at least semi-good neutral face. The kind of face one wore for a public area.

His eyes blinked from being in the darkly lit bathroom to suddenly being in a well lit shop. He took in the dark patterned carpet and the vivid posters once more. His eyes nervously glancing around at the few shop goers as he moved to stand near one of the windows. He pulled one of the comics off the shelf, hands thumbing through it as he pretended to brows, eyes glancing up at the people around him. He was trying so hard to be casual, though that could wrap around and make him seem weird, ‘too casual’ is a thing that exists.

Was he being too casual?!

His pulled himself away from panically staring at a random page of a comic book only to have his eyes connect with the window.

He felt paralyzed.

He didn’t know how he knew it, though it was probably because they were the only party there that was larger than two, but when his eyes landed on the three of them he knew.

It felt like he had known them forever.

They were all standing in the outside seating area just outside of the cafe, hugging, all three of them so elated.

A redshirted boy that Virgil can only assume was Roman was almost jumping up and down. The boy who was obviously Patton, wearing a rather warm looking puppy and kitten themed sweater, was attempting to hug each of them together. The last of them had to be Logan who was smiling a warm smile, and hugging back when it suited him. They all seemed happy and Virgil felt a sting of envy again. Their warm arms and faces were exchanging looks and touches.

Virgil was standing in a Comic shop.

They fit so well together, their arms and hands wrapping around one another like it was the most natural thing in the world.

They fit.

They just- they fit together effortlessly.

His entire life Virgil had never fit anywhere, Virgil had been time and time again shown that he didn’t belong with anyone.

Apparently not even his soulmates.

He watched their hands curl into one another and their faces breaking out in bright smiles. He watched them confirm every fear he ever had, knowing that he could never do any of those things. He could never jeopardize them that way. His hands were cold, and his very presence brought gloom.

He had no place with the three of them. Their colour and their light was gift he was supposed to admire not contribute to.

Not that he had anything to contribute to it anyway.

Virgil tried to shake a barrage of thoughts from his head, eyes watering. The loud sound of a honking car horn startled him, blurry eyes raising to barely make out the faces of just as elated adults waving to the group from a car. Virgil’s cheeks flushed, hands almost dropping the comic book he was now tightly clutching, another car stayed down a ways, the parents smiling.

Normal families.

Normal happy families that Virgil can contact and ruin, ruin the same way he ruined his.

A flash of his fathers cold hanging body made his brain silence, his chest suddenly tighten, his mind tilting until there was nothing.

He woke up all at once, and the moment he was standing to the moment he was waking up on the floor felt like a mere instant appart. A concerned store manager hovering over him, a hand at the back of his head checking for an injury.

He pulled away from the strangers hands, the man’s voice was muffled, sounding too far away from the still reeling Virgil.

“-Would you like me to call your parents” The words came into focus like a lense, slowly and with a gradient in time between indecipherable and clear. Virgil shook his head.

Who was there to call?

As Virgil sat up on the floor, he tilted back a little to peer out the glass doors, seeing both the cars and his soulmates gone.

‘Probably soul-bonding’ he thought to himself. Swallowing hard. An aching feeling filling his chest made him turn his head, and stare at the carpet there, mind dully wondering if there was ever going to be a time when things started to hurt less.

**Scribbles**

The night was all consuming and the edge of the table pressed into him. The blankness of his arms made the sorrow crop up inside of him again. His hoodie discarded to the floor.

It didn’t feel like there was a need for it anymore.

“You don’t normally take the hoodie off.”

Virgil’s head snapped to the side, looking into the eyes of his mother, who he hadn’t talked too since three days ago. He swallowed hard at the tired disheveled look she had. Her eyes bruised with circles and hair tousled.

“Yeah.” He said, turning his eyes back to the wood of the table as he waited for her to go for the liquor cabinet.

His mother took a seat.

She put her purse on the kitchen table, heaving out a sigh as she pulled her name tag off and ran a hand through her hair. “I- I know I’m.. I’m a- failure of a parent.” She stated and Virgil’s heart ached.

“No. You’re not. You do everything you can-,” Virgil began but his mother spoke over him

“I don’t- I don’t do enough.” She said, turning the name tag over in her hand as she spoke.

There was silence then. All consuming silence as they both sat in their own turmoils.

Emotional grievance pulling them both into the darkest places of their minds.

“How did you-” Virgil started suddenly, his voice cracking. “How did you deal with dad- with you know…”

His mother looked away from him. Her eyes vacant again, her expression mirroring the look she gave him in the bathroom that night. Virgil’s heart braced itself. The wounds so fresh that he didn’t think he could take another disappointment.

“I didn’t.”

She stood, tears running down her face. Giving Virgil the most apologetic look he’d ever seen on another human beings face. She pulled herself away from the kitchen table, the apartment echoing around them both as she pulled open the liquor cabinet.

Virgil stood, eyes spilling and a hand covering his mouth. He stepped over the hoodie. Leaving it there.

He burst through the door to his room with the edges of hysteria gripping at him. His hands going to clutch at his hair, yanking until it hurt. The pain making his eyes water.

He thought about his mother, about the years of isolation and pain. He thought about his dad leaving the both of them for his mental illness, and he thought about inevitability.

The pressing feelings that he would end up just like the both of them. His mother who would never see her soulmate again, and drank to forget that. His mind working against his own happiness no matter how every talks about soulmates being the ‘cure for all ills’.

He would be just as broken up, just as lost and desperate. Another ghosting figure in a world that doesn’t care about anyone with anything other than a happy ending. He was a damned soul.

A soulless.

He was truly a soulless now.

His breath came out in harsh puffs and he collapsed, sitting on his bed, keeling over and folding in on himself until his chest rested on his knees.

His eyes rose for just a second, just long enough for the time it took for his eyes to connect with the haphazard pile of the pages on his desk. The writing information Mrs. Higgs had given him. All of them collected in a single spot, discarded and crumpled.

There was stillness. The tears running down his face continued and he stood. His body slowly moving. He gripped the first page, moving it aside to pick up the Young-Authors Competition Rules. His hand shakily gripped a pen. His knuckles turning white with the force, and he pulled a loose leaf sheet onto the surface.

Then. He wrote.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was stuck sitting, and being bored, stealing glances at an equally bruised Ricky. The other boy’s mouth was screwed off to the side in distaste, his arms crossed.

New chapter of his life meant new shit of course. First week of his Freshman year too. Hey, at least he managed to make it past the first day this time.

There’s a first time for everything.

His face sported matching black eyes that were only just darker than the large eye bags that normally ringed around them. The throbbing pain in his shoulder and rib cage was easy enough to ignore, he had been doing that his entire life anyway.

He was stuck sitting, and being bored, stealing glances at an equally bruised Ricky. The other boy’s mouth was screwed off to the side in distaste, his arms crossed.

Probably pissed that Virgil got in some good hits of his own. Ricky always was too angry when it came to hitting and too sloppy when it came to footwork. In other words he was easy to dodge and easy to knock down.

Virgil felt vindicated in some way, knowing that they were  _both_  in trouble, they were  _both_  in pain, they were  _both_  equal, but past experience shows that that wouldn’t be the case for long.

Coach Basset was here, which meant Virgil was screwed, and he was screwed in front of three members of the board of education. Oh joy.

“That boy! has antagonised the entire school-,”

“Mr. Basset, calm down!” The gruff voice of the hearing officer shouted over him, Coach Basset having been talking loudly and  _passionately_  about what a ‘no-good-punk’ Virgil was.

Virgil rolled his eyes at the speech having heard the entire thing over and over again to the point that Virgil was pretty sure that he himself could give it. Probably even better than the Coach could.

I mean Coach always went too dramatic too quickly, the man’s gotta learn how to tension build in his rants.

Virgil hadn’t been in school for a full week yet, and he got into a fight. Well, more like he got into three fights. Well… or two beatings, where he just wouldn’t stay down, and a fight. The point was this last one had been the fight.

“Virgil do you have a defense?” The hearing officer asked him, eyes imploringly staring into Virgil’s.

To be honest Virgil had given up trying to defend himself. Not that he really could anyway. Not anymore at least.

He wasn’t the victim here anymore, he decided that a long time ago.

Virgil shrugged, staring down the hearing officer with a look of impassivity. It didn’t matter to him. Expulsion or not the outcome of all of this looked the same to him.

He already decided he wasn’t going to have a future.

“Then, Virgil you are expelled from Bay Public High School… indefinitely. For long withstanding violence against your fellow peers.” Coach Basset and Ricky looked at each other with satisfaction, and Virgil’s mouth twitched in distaste. “And Darrick Reese, you are to be suspended for ten days and be banned from playing basketball for the remaining year, for violence against your fellow peers.”

Virgil’s face suddenly lit up. A disbelieving smile quirking at his lips as his eyes took in the disbelief and horror on the faces of Ricky’s parents, the coach and Ricky himself.

“What! But that perfidious, soulless-”

“Mr. Reese don’t use  _slurs_. I admit- this isn’t a courtroom, but it is a professional setting. I’d ask you to treat it with the same respect as one.”

‘So that’s where Ricky got that from.’ Virgil thought, the familiar words barely registering in his ears. He smirked, his eyes drinking in the scene that was unfolding. Virgil had never had the displeasure of meeting Ricky’s parents till now, but they seemed like the classic soul-family with the agonizing white picket fence life.

There was something darkly satisfying of watching their ‘holier than all’ demeanor fall.

Virgil made purposeful eye contact with Ricky’s mom her eyes glaring in disgust. He quirked his lips up, sending an obnoxious smile her way.

“I’m sorry to break this too you two, but here, facts outweigh any feelings. The fact is all of their peers recount Darrick throwing the first punch and yelling slurs at Virgil. While Virgil does have a record that I can’t currently prove to be any different,” He looked at Virgil, his eyes shining such a sincere knowing look that Virgil’s spit caught in his throat. Hi’s smile pulled down, his jaw tensing and eyes glaring out the window next to him. “- I do know that in any other situation Virgil’s actions would be considered self-defense. Now, as adults, you should acknowledge that your son is at least partially to blame here, because whether or not you do, the consequences still exist.”

The indignant and outraged expressions of Ricky’s parents was enough to make a smile return to his face. The three of them, looking at each other in disbelief. Coach Basset’s face was red looking like it was just about to explode.

“Ricky is our star player! This is ridiculous- you have no proof that Ricky is-,”

“Mr. Basset-” One of the school board members spoke up, “We have no doubt that School sports are important, but between the boys grades and penchant for acting out we are certain that giving him some time away from sports might be enough motivation to get him to pick up his act.”

Ricky’s eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open by the barest of centimeters. He looked like he was going to argue, to cry out but he couldn’t.

It wouldn’t make a difference if he did.

Virgil’s smirk fell, a feeling of strong guilt pushing through his chest as he watched the boy’s face. He knew that feeling all too well. ‘Doesn’t feel so good on the other side of the fence does it Ricky?’ Virgil thought to himself.

The family basically stomped from the room, huffing and harshly whispering to one another. Ricky’s face painfully neutral as his eyes bounced from parent to parent. His mother yelling about the idiocy of the situation as the door closed behind them.

Virgil’s sighed through his nose. A small, sad smile of satisfaction attempting to pull at his lips. The feeling wasn’t as sweet as it had been a few minutes ago. Ricky’s family seemed supercilious and hypocritical, he almost felt bad for the guy.

Virgil reached down to grab his bag from out from under the chair.

The sound of footsteps made him look up, to see that the hearing officer walked over to him. The three members of the school board still huddled behind the desk, probably talking about which school they were going to move him too after this.

“Where’s your parents son?” He asked, eyes sympathetic in an eerily familiar way.

Virgil’s mouth thinned into a tense line. “My dad’s dead. My moms sick.” He stated. Which wasn’t too far off from the truth of the situation, though his mom wasn’t physically sick.

Whether that was better or worse was still up for debate.

“Are you okay to get home by yourself? You look a little worse for wear.”

Virgil’s bruised face pinched, his eyes warily glancing at the man. His bones ached of course. He hadn’t not been in pain for a while now, but he also wasn’t enough of an idiot to accept anything from a stranger, or even worse an authority figure.

“You’re not driving me anywhere if that’s what you’re insinuating.” Virgil said harshly. Proving a point by slinging on his backpack a little harder than he normally would have with his damaged shoulder. The man rose his hands in a placating manner, face amused and lips quirked into a small smile.

“I was asking more along the lines of, did you want to call anyone to come and get ‘cha?” He said, and Virgil felt a flush of embarrassment, shaking his head.

“I- I’ll be fine.”

He pulled away, body feeling the aftermath of buzzed nerves finally hit him, as he opened the door and turned down the hallway. His breathing started to become erratic.

It was weird in a way.

It didn’t feel like anything had changed really, even though it had. He had been cornered by another uncertainty, and that was usually enough to scare him, but lately it hadn’t felt like there was anything other than uncertainty anymore.

Virgil’s mind was halted as heavy footsteps slammed on the floor behind him, he sighed turning slowly to see Ricky standing there, his face twisted and eyes filled with fury.

“I thought you and your apple pie family would have left by now _Reese_.” Virgil stated, body tense. The thumping of his heart pounding in his ears was overwhelmingly loud to the point that he was almost surprised when he heard Ricky’s voice.

“ ****Ricky’s face was screwed up, his eyes blank in a way that honestly scared Virgil.

“I’m- I’m. Going. To kill you.” he stated, voice dark and steady.

Ricky lunged out, and Virgil’s frozen mind barely pulled enough sense into itself to duck backwards. He dropped his backpack and pulled himself away from Ricky’s hands, his body caving in, only to still be caught. Ricky’s fists balling up the fabric in his hoodie as he pulled him forward to meet his eyes. 

For the fourth time that week Virgil’s fist was in Ricky’s face. His eyes wide and sharp as his breathing was harshly pulling in and out of his lungs. His shaky fists were hindered by the adrenaline making his accuracy fall.

Ricky held his hand to the side of his face for a split second before he moved forward again, his eyes wild. The sound of the door behind them opening made the heat of the moment drown under tension.

As the other school board members and officials walked out footsteps echoing down the hallway, Ricky growled pulling away.

“This isn’t the end of this. You are so going to pay!” Ricky turned sprinting down the opposite way of the noise. Two men in suits rounded the corner, curious eyes lifting to see Virgil standing alone.

“Are you okay?” one of them asked, Virgil turned away pulling his backpack up off the ground, muscles clenching in pain. The absence of adrenaline making all the movements he probably shouldn’t have made while he was injured very apparent.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”  Virgil said through fast breath and shaking body, moving to walk the opposite way Ricky went, not caring that that meant he would have to walk around the outside of the building in order to start on home.

**Scribbles**

Virgil’s eyes tiredly raked up the side of his house as he finally made it to the door. The soreness of his body making it harder to move than normal. It was dark out which didn’t surprise Virgil at all. A 30 mile walk would do that.

The house was just as silent and dark as Virgil remembered it being 13 hours ago. His mother still on the couch, probably just as drunk as she was this morning.

Just as drunk as she’d been this entire year. Just as drunk as she had been since she lost her job.

Virgil ducked through the doorway to the sitting room, his mother’s pathetic form made him cringe. The entire room reeking like booze.

His heart hurt at seeing her like this. She was in so much pain and he was never able to do anything to help.

He bent down to pull the blankets off the floor and back onto her. She didn’t move, or shuffle. The only thing keeping Virgil’s confidence that she was even still alive was the movement of the haphazard pieces of hair that had fallen in front of her nose.

Nine years.

Pushing ten now. His mother had never recovered. The death of his father, the death of her own soulmate leaving her so broken that she never bothered to pull herself together again.

Virgil had never expected her to do so for him, but he hoped maybe one day she would do it for herself.

He turned hand rubbing his forehead as he walked upstairs to his room, each step sending another sore ache through his back and legs. He pulled open his door to see the bare grayness that awaited him in his room. The stains and broken walls that came with an over lived in apartment.

He remembered the day his mother first pulled the boxes into this place. It was run down even then. He remembered the sounds of the moving van pulling away as they settled the barest of their worldly possessions in under a roof that was half-falling apart.

“It’s just temporary,” she told him, a forced smile with eyes that were glazed over.

Then ‘temporary’ dragged on, pulling them both into two years then five and now here they were. The glazed look in her eyes only worsened through the years until only a void could be found where her old eyes used to be.

Virgil pulled his hoodie off, throwing it to drape across the back of the desk chair. Ignoring the scrawl across the skin of his wrist, the writing that Logan still penned out every once and awhile.

His body slumped onto the bed. His bones caving in and collapsing into a pile of aching muscles and burning skin. He pulled himself down, rolling over to his back and staring at his ceiling.

His eyes meeting the meaningless patterns in the paint.

The broken ceiling fan that hung uselessly.

Virgil turned his head to the side, images of a different ceiling fan tarnishing his mind, flooding it with sensations and pictures.

An old house, with a large field in the back. The orange paint on the bottom of the kitchen table and the smell of homemade applesauce.

He made a batch with his mother once, she swiped a bit on his nose and he giggled before wiping it off with his sleeve.

He remembered the shouting. The night time filled with loud noises, which were only just worse than the, sometimes, harsh desperate whispers.

“Just soulbond more.” The doctors said, because soulbonding is obviously the answer to all human ills.

He remembered hearing a loud thump from his parents bedroom.

He remembered the body.

His brain trapped him in the endless cycle of thoughts that always brought him back to wondering.

He wondered if his father had the right idea.

As each day stretched and pulled his heart to its limits, he wondered if stopping it could finally be the triumph to his pain. Exercising the final and only act of agency he had over his life, but then he remembered his mother.

The shape of the black slash mark that was scarred over her heart made the ideas of his mind stop.

He could never do that.

He could never mark his soulmates that way, leaving all of them confused and stained with the burden of his life.

He imagined their faces, one day waking up with a black scar across their chests with no idea who or what caused it. Never having known him enough to understand how he was just too damaged.

They were so kind. They would blame themselves the way his mom blamed herself. All of them never understanding that there was nothing they could have done.

He could never force them to walk with the mark of a soulbond that wasn’t ‘strong enough’ that wasn’t ‘good enough’ to fix him.

Virgil felt his mind mercifully darken. The thoughts starting to silence as his brain desperately, finally, drifted to sleep for the first time in so long.

**Scribbles**

Virgil was woken up by the sound of knocking on his door. His sore and sluggish eyes dragged themselves over to look at the clock. The glowing numbers shining a bright 7:24 am into his retinas. It figures the first day of his expulsion he couldn’t even sleep in.

He dragged his exhausted body from the sheets, the brief period of rest he received not doing any good. His back cramped, body protesting all movement as he tried to bring his battered body to get up. As he finally managed to sit up, he sighed, his face twisting with irritation at his own shortcomings.  

Hearing three more raps on the door, he yelled “Coming!” before pulling himself till his feet hit the cold wood of the floorboards outside of his room. He forced himself down the stairs, taking each step as gingerly as possible and opening the door too see a strangely familiar woman standing outside.

Her face was carefully schooled, her entire frame prim and proper, making Virgil feel immediately self-conscious at his disheveled and under-dressed appearance.

“Um… may i help you?” He tried, eyes nervously shifting. The woman pushed her glasses up her nose, eyes steely.

“I was contacted  by Benjamin Holt, the hearing officer at your expulsion.” Virgil Paused, eyes dawning with a sudden sense of recognition.

“Benjamin?” He asked, voice a little choked and she nodded her eyes boring into him. His body feeling naked without his hoodie, standing in front of this meticulous women in just his tank top. He pulled one of his arms up, wrapping a hand around his bicep, arm secured around his chest and the bottom of his wrist pulled inward where the writing couldn’t be seen.

“Alright?” Virgil asked more than said. He didn’t know what any of this had to do with him, but the serious look on this woman’s face left him discomposed and alarmed.

“He wanted me to check you out and see if i would be willing to allow you to go through the admissions process to Sanders High.”  Suddenly the reason this woman seemed so familiar slammed into him. The blood draining from Virgil’s face so fast he thought he might pass out.

Sylvia Graves, the principle for the Magnet school Sanders High School of Academic Excellence was standing in his doorway.

“Wha-” A choked noise escaped Virgil’s throat, making him cough suddenly. “What?”

“If i am to be frank with you Mr. Virgil, I was just going to tell him no,” Virgil swallowed, head sagging a little.

It’s not like he could really blame her honestly.

“but the man seemed convinced my school specifically needed to look into you, and let me tell you your file is an interesting mix-bag of self contradictions.” She gestured to the inside of the house, and Virgil hesitated, pausing and turning his head to look into the dark room.

“Only if your parents would be fine with me entering of course.” She amended and something dark twisted in Virgil’s stomach

“No- no come in, my- um, my parents. They aren’t here- but i mean… neither of them would care.” He opened the door fully, eyes shifting with the shadows of the room as Mrs. Graves entered the house, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

Virgil moved slowly, trying to settle the soreness in his limbs. He gingerly took the seat that was farthest from her and watched her pull out a small stack of papers.

“All your records show violence and problems with your fellow peers as well as problems acting out in class.” Virgil grimaced as she continued, “Your grades are mostly B’s with a few A’s here and there. Average if a bit on the good side. Normally i wouldn’t even question your… situation”

Virgil felt indignation pool in his stomach. If he knew she was just going to insult him he wouldn’t have invited her in.

“Virgil, your grades are fine, not excellent but definitely not what most ‘delinquents’ keep” She stated, “now- i would have just chalked this up to easy schooling. I mean… Bay public elementary and middle school have never even broached the word challenging, but then the Young-Authors Competition was brought to my attention,”

Virgil swallowed hard at the mention of the competition. The wild-  _dangerous_ , writing he had done, about his life, about his feelings. The writing that went on to win him something for the first time in his life. The memories of Mrs. Higgs cropped up, souring his tongue and making something in his chest sink.

She had tried to do so much for him. It never worked, no anti-bullying seminar or meeting would ever change the level of screwed over that he had reached. Any building can say they’re a bully free zone but none of them could actually uphold it.

“Virgil, you not only went to nationals, but won first place and got 10,000 dollars in scholarship money. I want to know why an obviously bright young man, with such talent for the literary arts is being written off as some sort of scoundrel.”

Virgil swallowed hard, eyes pulling down as his throat caught on every word his brain had learnt since birth.

“Think about it.” She said standing, smoothing out her skirt with her hands. “If you would like to explain to me your situation and why you should be a candidate for enrollment in my school, then I have an appointment slot open for you. In three days. I’ll be in my office at three o’clock working on some files that i would just love to procrastinate on.”

She handed him a card, “Show this to the security at the front and they’ll let you in then go to the front office and ask to see me.” Virgil’s eyes locked with the loopy scrawl on the card.

Her heels clicked on his floor, the sound ringing out in the empty air. She paused at the doorway turning one more time and catching his eye, trapping him in a serious look. “Remember, Friday at three.” She took her leave while Virgil’s head was spinning. He brought his hands up, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He had  _just_  grappled with the idea of ending it all last night. Why was he being faced with a life changing decision now.

Hearing the tell-tale sound of a car motor start, he sat and listened as Mrs. Graves pulled away from his house. The silence leaving him pondering the idea of a future that he never thought he would have to contemplate.

Eventually he stood, throwing the card on the table and pulling away.  He didn’t have to deal with this right now.

He didn’t have to deal with it ever if he didn’t want to.

He went the the kitchen sink, sluggishly pulling open the cabinet doors beneath it. He pulled out the cleaning products and grabbed the broom while he was at it. His eyes cold as he walked into the living room,

His mother was in the exact same spot as before. The only difference being the blanket that she had somehow pushed off herself sometime last night.

Virgil sighed, the silence of the room deafening as he put the cleaning stuff down on the floor and grabbed the broom handle. He might as well deal with the copious amount of trash and alcohol bottles that were scattered around the room first, the smell could wait to be resolved for another few hours.

He started sweeping the bottles in a pile. The numbness settling back in him as he watched each container roll into the trash bag.

It was a strange feeling. Suddenly having so much power over the thing that ruined your life. Having power that made you feel even more helpless in the long run.

The answer to this problem was simple, but there was only one. The answer being for her to stop drinking, but despite it being a deceptively simple notion the actual practice of the idea was too far away to even imagine. As if Virgil could even conceive of any alternate world, or timeline where this wasn’t his life.

As if there would never be a time where things hurt less.

As he pulled the last of the bottles into a corner, finally able to see the dullness of the wood floor again, he reached for the Clorox spray. He knelt next to the counter with a rag, spraying once before reaching out to wipe it up, only for his wrist to suddenly be grabbed,

He jumped, a yelp exiting his mouth before he turned to see his mothers eyes focusing on him for the first time in at least a year.

“You should go.” She said voice raw and hoarse. Her eyes were clearer than they had been in years, her speech telling him she had to be sober for the first time since he was in the seventh grade.

Virgil felt his shoulders tense up face settling into an expression of melancholy confusion. His eyes soft as he looked at his mother with pity and heartbreak. He sent her a sad smile, before gripping the rag again and rubbing the spray off the table.

“Virgil?” Her voice raised in volume, trying it’s best to be strong. He froze eyes snapping up, She hadn’t said his name since he was a child. “Virgil, I’m not- You can’t spend your entire life taking care of me-”

“Mom-,” His voice was tired, it was tired and overused.

“Virgil I don’t want you to spend any more time taking care of me I- I don’t want to be taken care of.”

Virgil’s eyes stung, his nose burning as he pressed his lips together. The corners of his mouth twitched down and he shook his head.

“I’m not letting you waste away-,”

“Honey.” His mother began, her voice taking on the tone she used to use when he would scrape his knees. Holding all the kindness from the days when she would bend down to kiss the band aid and tell him ‘everything was going to be alright’. The sound had his breath hitching.

“I- I want to waste away. I don’t want to be here anymore.” Her voice was watery. The tears running freely down the sides of her cheeks made Virgil fall forward. His hands lightly brushing them away.

“M-mom don’t say that I-,”

“You are such- a good boy-” She said, her hand reaching out to touch his face. “You’re so smart-” Her hand cupped his cheek and the feeling had a tear running down his own cheek. “Honey you are so so strong. You deserve a future that’s better than all this-,”

“So do you.” He said, his voice weak as he gripped her face a little harder, as if she was about to slip away from him this instant.

“Honey I don’t have a future. I’m already all grown up.” Virgil sobbed pressing his forehead against hers, and for the first time in eight years Virgil got a hug from his mother.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was silence after he finished, and he pressed both his hands firmly into the rough fabric of the seat as he felt the pressure of the tension weigh in on him. He pulled his eyes up to see that Mrs. Grave’s facial expression hadn’t changed.

Virgil felt his heart in his throat, his mind on overdrive as he stared up at the entrance of Sanders High.

He shifted, pulling the fabric of his hoodie down a little more, in a vague attempt at making himself more presentable. He sighed, pulling the hood of his hoodie up, trying his best to hide his black eyes. He buried his hands in his hoodie pockets, fingers nervously running over the edges of the card that Mrs. Graves had given him.

The head of school security was standing in the vestibule at the doorway of the school. A tall older man with a stony gaze.

With a deep breath, Virgil shakily climbed the steps up to the entrance. The man’s eyes turning to him.

“U-uh um.” Virgil pulled the card out of his hoodie pocket, “I have this to- uh, see Mrs. Graves?” The man looked over the card eyes suspiciously scanning it before grabbing a look at Virgil again.

“The office is to the right of the door.” He stated, and Virgil moved past him, head down and hands sweaty.

Virgil didn’t know what he was going to say when he got there. He didn’t know if the truth would do anything in his favour or not. With his luck, talking about anything in his life would just make him seem like even more of a ‘troubled kid’.

His story was stained with the term ‘lost cause’ from beginning to end, but it wasn’t like he had much to lose at this point anyway.

If this one person was the only one to ever hear his story than at least he knew he tried for once. At least he can say he didn’t just sit back the entire time his life fell apart.

“Not being the victim means not just letting things happen to you.” He mumbled to himself, remembering the only advice he had ever been given. His head repeating the words over and over again as he approached the front office.

Virgil walked past the clear windows into the open room, the man sitting at the front desk pulled his eyes up giving Virgil a curious glance. Virgil’s hands shifted in his pocket, pulling the card out again in case he needed it, his thumb repetitively brushing the edge.

“Uh- Mrs- Mrs. Graves said she’d be here to- um- to see me or something?” The man glanced at him, eyes moving up and down quickly before he hesitantly nodded at him, gesturing at the hallway to his right.

“All the way at the end of the hall, she should be in her office.” The man turned back to his computer as Virgil quickly nodded to him.

He pushed the card back into his hoodie, pulling on the edges of the sleeves for the first time in so long. The sleeves that hadn’t fit around his hands in so long.

Things that just, hadn’t mattered in so long.

When he got to the door he stopped. His mind running a mile a minute, trying to find the course of action it would take now that it was presented with a closed door.

He stood there, not quite knowing what to do. Until he eventually settled for just pulling back his fist and risking a knock.

“Come in.” Mrs. Graves voice rang out behind the door and Virgil turned the knob, pushing the door open but not walking through. He feet glued to the area of different coloured carpet they had settled on right outside the door.

“Uh… I’m here?” He stated, his legs wobbling in there place, his knees locked.

He had always rocked the inside of the principles office no matter who the principle was that year. Whether it was Mr. Tanner or Ms. Barbello he always had the upper hand on knowing just how the scenario would play out.

He knew exactly how it had always been with getting in trouble.

Getting yelled at was a breeze. All you do is sit there and let them come to their own conclusions about exactly who you are. They make their decisions and as long as you were quiet you were golden. No arguing, there was never a point.

This, however, was different. An adult was going to listen to him for once and he didn’t know what to say. He’d never had to say anything before.

“Well come in, sit down! You’re hovering isn’t going to help the meeting.” Mrs. Graves said, gesturing to the two plush chairs in front of her. Virgil moved, body trembling as he sat in the chair, his back stiff.

“Well? Would you like to begin?” She said simply.

Virgil’s brain halted, his eyes wide as he just stared at the wood of her desk.

“Virgil?” Mrs. Graves asked, pushing a few papers on her desk out of the way, “How about you just start by telling me about your Young-Authors essay?”

Virgil’s throat relaxed a little, swallowing a lump that had somehow developed within the last few minutes. His eyes bounced back and forth between two spots in the air.

“Uh-wh- what about my essay?” He asked finally. His voice a little rough.

“How about the ending, It’s a-,” She paused, thinking for a split second before continuing, “a little morbid isn’t it?”

“It-,” Virgil’s mind backtracked, digging into his brain to unearth the ending from the back of his mind. When it was finally recalled he didn’t know what to do. The information brought up things he didn’t want to admit. Realizations from that night he didn’t want to remember. He paused, not having shared his connection with the words with anyone, not even really himself if he was to be honest.

“It?” She prompted once more, and Virgil swallowed hard, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. His mouth twitching as he screwed his eyes shut for a second.

He was supposed to be pleading his case or whatever. Supposed to come to her and tell her why his ‘situation’ looks the way it does, and here he is having to be prompted at every turn. Like he was being trapped into an unwanted conversation with a teacher rather than voluntarily giving information in order to desperately improve his situation.

“It- it was kind- for me at least- it was kind.”  He started, the words random, and instinctual. If he was going to fuck this up he was going to do it earnestly.

Her eyebrows rose, and he tried to continue, tired to get out as much as he could before his mind made him close his mouth out of trepidation, before his mind made him overthink every word until he couldn’t say anything at all.

“It was kinda based- i mean… my uh..” He forced himself to stop, lips clicking shut as he slowly pulled his head up, before pushing himself to look her in the eye. He scanned her face, eyes doing everything they could to not stay in one spot as he spoke, “My d- dad… he- uh killed himself so-,”

Her eyes widened momentarily in surprise before her face was schooled back into a neutral expression. Virgil’s eyes flicked around, taking in each movement of her face as they seek for the disgust. The irrational anger that people had at hearing that.

He face was relaxed, if a little tight. Her eyes stuck with his, her posture not wavering her lips not curling. Virgil took a deep breath before continuing.

“My dad killed himself,” he restated nodding to himself, “and- my mom she’s- she’s sick.” His eyes wobbled, before falling. They connected with the floor again, and Virgil squirmed, “I um was bullied- that was all those fights i mean-” He shook his head, hand coming up to thread itself through his hair, palm narrowly avoiding the sore, swollen lump on the edge of his hairline, “I- not that me reacting in violence in turn was a good way of handling- um handling that… it was just- adults-” He halted, eyes widening. “well i mean- no one in Bay Public ever did anything about it really and Ri- the-um… kid- he was good at lying so I-uh- fought back?”

There was silence after he finished, and he pressed both his hands firmly into the rough fabric of the seat as he felt the pressure of the tension weigh in on him. He pulled his eyes up to see that Mrs. Grave’s facial expression hadn’t changed.

Virgil felt himself sag, his aching face dropping as he waited to just be kicked out already. To be told he was wasting her time and needed to leave, but the moment was ended not by he telling him to leave, but by her picking up the phone on her desk speaking into it.

“Chris? Can you call Allen down from his class, we have a new student candidate that will want the once-around the school before he takes the entrance exams.”

Something in Virgil’s chest soared and he dared to call it hope.

Mrs. Graves stood and Virgil copied the motion, following closely behind her as she walked out into the waiting area in the office. They didn’t have to wait long, and the boy that soon sped in was almost out of breath. He was scrawny and disheveled eyes quickly flicking through the room before spotting Virgil.

“Allen, this is Virgil,” Mrs. Graves said before turning back to Virgil, “This is a member of student council, he’s going to show you around the school and tell you what things will be like here, after that you will get the papers from Chris,” She gestured to the man at the front desk who looked up and gave Virgil a tight lipped smile before looking back down at his monitor. “ to study for the entrance exam.” She looked back at Allen, “take it away kid,”

“Alrighty then! I’m Allen-you already knew that sorry,- ummm, I’m going to kind of be your guide on this adventure or, you know, mundane life event or whatever.” He held the door open, and gestured out into the school dramatically. Virgil just glanced at Mrs. Graves, who looked not at all shocked, as he slouched further into his hood.

“Wow! Wait do you have- are those like real black eye-er eyes?!” Allen asked, hand moving from holding the door open to gesturing at Virgil’s face. Virgil grimaced his sore flesh protesting the expression. He was already being singled out before he had even been accepted into the school.

“Allen,” Virgil jumped at the voice of the principle ringing out from behind him, “give him the tour.” She stated, not unkindly but in a finite way that left no room for interpretation.

“Uh- yeah of course.. Um, this way-” he turned again walking out of the room and Virgil sighed threw his nose, stuffing his hands back into his hoodie pockets before he followed.

**Scribbles**

The school wasn’t fancy but it was definitely better than any school Virgil had seen, especially Bay Public. The hallways were semi-clean, the lockers were all closed and not half hanging off their hinges or dented, and the place was spacious with enough windows to not suck the life out of the students immediately upon entering.

Allen chattered on and on about school history and their values, and as they went Virgil peeked into classrooms, his eyes mentally noting the nooks and crannies.

It went on like this for awhile, before Allen’s fast paced movement stopped, his eyes looking at his wrist watch and sputtering.

“Ugh-uh I’m- uh, sorry about this but passing period is about to start… sooo the hallways are about to be, like, really full” Allen said with an apologetic shrug. Virgil shrugged back, mentally thanking him for the heads up.

As predicted, the bell rang, not a shrill ding but an almost musical alarm Virgil noted, and the hallways then filled with students. The chatter and banter moving as teenagers grouped up with friends and acquaintances.

The mass of colorful clothing and loud voices made Virgil shrink further into himself, leaning against the wall a little as Allen kept talking.

“-but we have a blocked schedule for the college and AP course kids so we can usually get through a whole tour without having to deal with the passing period crowd- I’m sorry-,”

Virgil’s nodded along at whatever Allen was babbling about, his eyes shifting just slightly to the left. It was only three centimeters to the left. Three centimeters, but it was just enough for his eyes to catch on something bright red and shiny.

Virgil’s heart thumped, his eyes widened, freezing on the forms of three boys he knew everything and nothing about.

“Wh- Who are-um who are those three right there?” Virgil asked, his words coming out before he had a chance to think about them. Allen looked at him questioningly before he quiveringly pointed to the trio. Allen peered over to where Virgil was pointing eyes squinting before turning back to Virgil.

“Oh, they’re all Polyam. soulmates! And they all dominate in each of their choice of like- hobby things or whatever, so it’s like, they kinda rule the school a little.” He moved pointing to each one as he talked about them.

“That’s Roman he’s the best in our drama department- insists on wearing the sash with  _every_  outfit-don’t ask why- the teacher says that he’s a shoe in to get into any theater, er Stage Arts -or whatever- college. Patton who has literally maxed out the schools Psych. classes and goes to the college to compensate. Of course the school pays for it because yeah- same thing with Logan in both Math and Physics though he’s so smart he could probably pick any concept and own it I think.” Allen shrugged and Virgil’s face heated up, awkwardly staring at his soulmates from across the room.

His heart swelled with happiness at all their accomplishments, getting a sense of inexplicable pride as he watched them flourish. At least they were doing well.

Logan turned a little, his body aligned just enough to be able to glance up and make eye contact with Virgil. Virgil’s eyes filled with horror, whipping his head downward and ignoring the flare of pain this brought in order to break the eye contact. The dark red flush of his cheeks burning shame in his veins.

Oh, the joy of just getting caught staring at someone else.

Allen laughed a little, “dude? What was that?” He asked eyes shining with amusement and Virgil felt himself grip the inside of his pocket harder, crushing the card in his hand.

“What!?” Virgil asked his voice hard, stomach rolling. His eyes refused to make contact with anything as they bounced around the room, Allen rose his hands in a placating manner eyes wide,

“Dude it’s fine, that’s Logan there’s like no reason to be scared of him or anything- well unless you try and get in a debate with him or something.” Allen shrugged as Virgil felt the sick feeling of several conflicting emotions rolling in his stomach.

“Hey- I was wondering if you’d ever been to Strip’s? It’s this comic shop place-,” The familiar name made Virgil’s warily start eyeing Allen.

“Um… why?” He asked slowly and Allen shrugged,

“I don’t know you just have the exact same jack of this kid who like- passed out or something a few years ago.”

Virgil cringed at the memory, his tender face erupting in pain at the action. A smile broke out on Allen’s face.

“Oh my gosh- that was totally you wasn’t it!?” Virgil’s energy drained from him, face falling, suddenly impossibly tired.

“Lets just, i don’t know, get the rest of this over with.” Virgil stated, voice slow and quiet.

“Woah- no I’m sorry? I didn’t mean anything bad by that The only reason i remember is because nothing ever happens at that small shop- i should know I’ve worked there for, like, two years now.” Allen waved his hands around, flashing Virgil the number ‘two’ with his fingers.

Virgil eyes caught on the green writing on the back of Allen’s hand locking there for a second before letting it go. Allen’s eyes followed along Virgil’s line of sight before it connected with his own hand and a smile broke out over his face.

“Oh! he lives in England and he’s a year older than me!” Allen said excitedly and Virgil gingerly nodded his head at Allen who just kept going, “How about you! Soulmate?!”

Virgil’s face darkened, and he shrugged making Allen’s face fall.

“Oh- are you like- do, um, do you not have a-,”

The one-minute-to-late bell rang and all the students milling around started heading to their classes, the hallway slowly emptying

“Yeah.” Virgil stated harshly, his voice echoing a little in the now empty hallway. “Yeah, i don’t. Beat me up for it or whatever. I don’t care.”

Allen’s face pulled a shocked expression before his hands were once again raised open palmed in the air.

“Woah, woah- No! And if anyone does anything like that to you, you go to the principle! We have a strict no bullying policy here- i mean, didn’t you hear me back at like, the beginning of the tour?” Allen’s face fell a little, he lowered his voice a little, eyes gentle, “Is that where you got the black eyes?”

Virgil flinched and his face pinched in a sour expression that only made the bruising sting more.

“Look, it’s been a great- tour, or whatever, i’d give you a full five star yelp review, but- if that’s it I’m just gonna go home now?” Virgil said, his eyes daring to glance at the area that his soulmates once stood in.

“Uh-I… yeah! Just- um stop by the office again and get the studying stuff for the entrance exam…”

Virgil nodded, pressing the balled up remains of Mrs. Graves card into a flat disk and walking down the hallway. He threw away the remains of the card-stock at the first trash can he passed.

Virgil’s eyes kept steady contact with the floor, his face lax and neutral. He watched the distorted colours of his half reflection morph on the tile until the tile turned to carpet and he was standing in the office again.

He walked up to the front desk again, and Chris nodded at him, fingers typing out something on the keys of the desktop.

Virgil took a shaky breath before beginning to speak, “I was told to get the exam stu-,” before he even finished his sentence the man was handing him a stack of papers,

“the last entrance exam of this semester is being taken on the Saturday of next week, it starts at 4:00 and ends at 6” He stated, and Virgil shifted the papers in his hands clutching them a little harder than necessary, “Oh, and we need to know that if you do pass the exam that you have a ride to be able to get here everyday, if not we need to include your street on the bus route.”

“um n-no? I would need the, um- bus?” He said, a finger repeatedly running along the corner of the small stack of papers that he was given.

The man nodded once more, turning back to his screen. Virgil swallowed, eyes glancing away from Chris and back again, mentally wondering whether or not their transaction was done. He took a tremulous, impulsive step backwards, pausing before turning fully to walk out the door, only to run into a broad chest.

“Woah there, watch yourself,” The voice was boisterous, not exactly mean in any way but loud. When Virgil looked up he felt the blood drain from his face.

Roman was looking down at him, greeting him with a large smile.

“Well, i know my presents might be overwhelming to some,  but surely it isn’t scary?” He said with a quirk of his lips that made Virgil blush.

‘Why am i thinking about his lips!?’ Virgil’s mind screamed at him and he pulled back, stepping out of Roman’s way and waiting for Roman to enter the room so Virgil could exit.

Roman entered fully but he turned just as Virgil was about to make an exit.

“Welcome to the school new kid! Hope to see you at one of my performances!”

Virgil, found his voice again letting out a shaky- “sure,” before he was bursting out of the front door into the open air, getting another raised eyebrow from security.

**Scribbles**

By the time Virgil had once again sagged into his house, his legs were about ready to give out. He pulled the door shut leaning against it’s frame and, letting out a sigh. He pushed his  hood down, pressing the back of his head into the wall.

He found himself smiling, despite- well everything, he had done it. The packet of information for studying for the entrance exam was tucked safely under his arm. Now all he had to do was pass it. His smile fell before he pushed off the door frame. His feet scuffing on the wood floor as he moved into the living room.

His mother was still in her place sleeping on the couch.

“Hey mom?” He whispered, not expecting an answer but hoping for one. He walked around to the front of the couch, eyes barely making out her form until he had circled almost fully to the front of it.

His pulse jumped. He felt his stomach drop panic grabbing at his heart at the almost yellow colour of her skin.

“M-mom!” He shook her shoulder, before rolling her over on her back, and placing his hand over her nose and mouth to feel the light air blowing out of her nose.

He ran to the phone, quickly dialing 9-1-1.

As he waited for the ambulance to get there he couldn’t help but wish he had hung on to that hug a little harder.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He pulled his hood tighter around his face, eyes tracing over the floor before he turned. He was ready to go to walk home. Just as he moved a hand lightly gripped his shoulder, tugging a little to stop him.Virgil’s shoulders scrunched up, body pulling away a little, “Who-,” he began, his eyes connecting with another person’s. His voice was all at once buried under stuttering as he turned to see that the hand belonged to Patton. Patton whose face was beaming eyes large and shining.

The preparations for the winter musical was priority number one for most of the school, both student and faculty. Though, Virgil only knew this because his computer applications teacher was also the head of the sound and lights for the play which meant the class was usually just given an assignment before being left to their own devices.

Mr. Morey left the room, barely having a full grip on his computer before he opened the door, foot wedging itself in the closing space. He turned, eyes looking over the instructions he left on the board. He smiled nodding to himself, his instructions for the next part of their assignment was as clear as day.

Though, I guess that depends on what day it is.

“Mrs. L is right next door, don’t do anything stupid.” He stated, before turning and leaving. Virgil, stared after him. The rest of the class already having started or finished the assignment, while Virgil was at a loss for what the assignment actually was.

Virgil hunched closer to the computer, his eyes looking over the instructions once or twice before his fingers started to ghost over the keys.

“Isn’t the play like… in November or something?” Virgil mumbled under his breath

He jumped, a shot of adrenaline making his hands yank away from the keys as Allen suddenly rolled his chair next to him almost knocking him over.

“Yeah-,” Allen said with a shrug, twirling a sucker in between his fingers and leaning back, slowly turning in his spinny-chair, “rumour is that some scout from a fancy acting college is gonna be at our winter musical- so they’re, like, in some sort of tizzy.”

He pulled the wrapper off the candy before sticking it in his mouth “I don’t know anything other than that though, i don’t run with those people,” Allen said before spinning the chair wildly and biting into the sucker, starting to chew on the gum there.

“Uh- then why do- why do you know any… of that?” Virgil asked slowly, his mouth tilted lips puckered slightly, and Allen spun the chair to face him again.

“Well I know a lot of the tech guys- I mean I’m in every computery class i can get into and some of them are in that-,”

He turned suddenly pulling his body from leaning back to leaning forward, his chair rocking as he did so. “It’s not like i don’t like musicals, I just don’t like school musicals…” Allen paused, his eyes suddenly widening before his mouth pulled into an uneasy smile. He leaned in a little more.

“You uh- your hood isn’t down enough so- er… Your face.”

Virgil’s heart skipped a beat. He snapped his hand up, pulling the fabric further down to cover himself.

Allen awkwardly nodded at him, clearing his throat before rolling himself back over to his side of the row of computers.

Virgil watched him go, before he turned back to his own monitor, lifting his hand to gingerly rub at the corner of his most bruised eye. He peered at his reflection in the shine of the black corners of the screen.

The bruises had started to colour, the blacks turning to blues and greens and in a few more weeks yellows would join in.

Virgil pulled up Excel, they were doing something in that even if he wasn’t sure what. His eyes darted over to the computers in the row in front of him.

First week in and he’s already cheating, how great.

When the bell rang Virgil pulled his eyes away from the screen, sparing a look at the speaker in the ceiling for a moment before staring down at his bag.

The musical notes didn’t startle him as badly as the loud thrill of the bells at his old school. The hallways he had to walk now didn’t make him feel like he was one wrong turn from accidentally stumbling into a correctional facility, there were windows that weren’t broken, the walls were brightly coloured, floors new and shiny. The students smiled to each other as they passed by in the hall, even smiling to him.

Virgil, felt sick, the cheery demeanors making him feel more uneasy than welcome. His eyes would squint at the too-bright rooms, his brain giving him headaches from the light. His stomach would twist at every happy face that tried it’s hand at brightening his day.

He wasn’t the kind of person who could be bright.

His shoulders rose up to his ears, shoving his hands further into his pockets. He palmed his schedule out of the pocket of his hoodie, pulling it out to glance at the room number of his next class.

Gym.

Virgil wasn’t looking forward to this class, for one his body was already aching enough on its own, but also they had uniform gym clothes that were comprised of shorts and a t-shirt that definitely wouldn’t cover any of Virgil’s damaged body.

Virgil was clutching onto this uniform, his right hand balling up the fabric into one fist. He walked into the gym to see the polished floors and new looking equipment. His eyes only had to scan once before he found the entrance to the boys locker room, but he stayed standing at the entrance of the gym.

He slowly extended his foot, his eyes darting around the room before he placed it down. The area was surreal, new and frankly rich looking. He walked forward half expecting to leave a ‘lower economy’ trail of destruction as he went  

The locker room was clean too, surprisingly- or maybe not so surprisingly, though it seems like high school boys are the same in every school, rich or not. The bulk of them messing around and rough housing a little as they ducked in and out of the room, while the quieter ones were rarely bothered.

Despite their, overwhelmingly, familiar nature, they at least didn’t mention the fact that Virgil had gone into one of the stalls to change. They either didn’t notice it or thankfully ignored it.

He had changed and waited, clutching the dark mass of his clothing in his hands as he stood. His head pressed against the stall door, listening to the laughter and voices of the boys just outside of it.

He jumped at the loud sounds they made. His heart-beat increasing when one of them would get close to his stall. It wasn’t until the slamming of locker doors were echoing around the room, and the voices started down the hall to the door, that Virgil had tentatively placed his hand on the lock. His fingers twitching as he waited to twist the notch.

It wasn’t until after all the other boys had left that he dared crack the stall door open. The suddenly noiseless room echoing the squeaks in the door hinge. He walked out, sparing himself a sorrowful glance in a mirror, eyes briefly scanning over each inch of damage that was now visible to anyone.

His hands folded his clothing into his locker, giving the fabric one last glance before dragging his feet, slowly bringing himself to walk out. His eyes were connected with the floor, barely pulling up enough to peer at the rest of the class, all of them already running laps. He shakily pulled at the hem of his shirt.

“Yeah, go change back and sit on the bench.” Virgil jumped at the gym teacher’s voice, his eyes snapping to see her cracked lips pulled into a tight line.

The black and blue prints clashed wildly against his pale flesh in a way that would almost be beautiful if they meant anything other than what they did. If the colour had come from anything other than a fist. The stains of colours decorating his jaw and limbs like someone dipped him in slowly fading inks.

The painful looking bruises were a strong indicator of how well he was going to be able to run laps today.

He sighed at her words, giving a breathless nod before he turned. His body sagging before running back into the locker room, his arms shooting out to push the door open, and hands fumbling with the lock on his locker before pulling out his worn clothing.

He stripped himself down quickly. His eyes examined the paint in the wall, carefully looking anywhere but the mirror across from him. The reflection mattering less to him than just getting covered. Soon, the uneasy feeling in his chest relaxed a little, the fully covering layers of clothing hung off his body and he sighed. His fingers tracing the edge of the hood before he pulled it up, leaving the locker room.

He sat on the bleachers, his heart finally settling in his chest, body ready to exhaustedly sink into the monotony of watching the other students run in circles several times over, when another person sunk into the spot next to him. He kept his eyes forward, mentally chanting wishing and begging for this person to just leave. He heard the rustling of papers. He sighed before he glanced over to see a ginger girl fiddling with her phone and holding fliers.

“Uh, what are you doing over here?” Virgil asked, his eyes flicking to the coach, who was rather distracted with some boys who managed to give each other bloody noses, and back at the girl in front of him.

“Well, I sprained my knee-“ she said putting her phone back in her purse and gesturing down to the splint on her knee, “I do volleyball- but I’m also over here because I wanted to give you this flier!” She pulled a piece of paper out of the stack with a little flourish, handing him a flier, the top of which said ‘W.I.S.E competition this Friday!” in all caps.

“Uh… what?” Virgil asked, his voice tired and body bending backward away from the girl. His hand slipped the flier back into the stack.

“Well I know you’re new and this would be a great way for you to make some friends!” She said, hand pulling the same flier back up, holding it in the air, “I’m a member of student council and we’re all about high-school pride and extra curriculars! We want to make sure that everyone feels accepted here at Sanders high!- Have you ever heard of the nobody-eats-alone club?!” Her tangent made Virgil’s brain halt and he managed stuttering out a quick “no,” as she floored on.

“Well, it’s this thing student council does every day at lunch, anyone can come to the student council room and eat with us! It’s another great-,”

“Way of making friends?” Virgil finished for her, scooting away from her and her rather loud speech. She paused looking at him.

“Are you not interested in making friends?” She asked tentatively, lowering her energy level enough for Virgil to catch his breath.

“I- I don’t know.” He said, turning back to look out on his peers as they ran aimlessly around the gym. Their bright coloured gym clothes, matching up with the polished wood floors with the neat print of their mascot in the middle.

Virgil felt like he was outside looking in. Their unbruised bodies clenching the idea that something was just, wrong, with Virgil.

He could never be friends with any of them.

“Well, maybe just talking to other people could help you find out,” She tried, hand holding out the flier too him, still highly focused on her mission of getting Virgil to accept one of her pieces of paper. “Even if you don’t want to make friends you could just find out if there’s anything here you would like to do, no reason to be sitting bored in your room after class huh? -like see here,” she pulled the flier back to her pointing to the title.

“This is W.I.S.E it’s basically a trivia club, they compete in trivia competitions. They’re going to be competing for a place at the state competition, and it’s going to be held here in our auditorium. I’ve heard that we’re, like,  basically guaranteed to win since Logan joined- er Logan is-,”

“Logan?” Virgil asked eyes wide, turning to face her again.

“Er- Yeah Logan? You know him?” Virgil blushed his face thankfully hidden behind the darkness of his hood as he went quiet. She stared at him for a moment before shrugging, “Well just think about going then. If you know him it might be a good way to show support for him”

**Scribbles**

Virgil hated school events, the brushing of bodies against him, while floating in a crowd of his least favourite people was already enough. The constant fear of getting cornered was another matter, but that was before Sanders High.

That didn’t apply here. Here he just uneasy, uncomfortable. Too many bodies and too much happening was enough to make him decide to stay home. His mind firmly planting him in his too-quiet house with only him.

That feeling of unease was enough to stop him almost always, almost. It didn’t stop him now though. It didn’t stop him from being at every theater event, fundraiser and food drive that the Roman, Logan and Patton ran and participated in.

Somehow there was something worth it in the end, all the uncomfort pressed against him but just a glimpse of a dark blue button up, cardigan or sash was enough to make Virgil feel home. It was better than any promise of free food for Virgil.

The promise of spotting just one of them.

Logan was brilliant. Virgil was convinced that he was an actual genius. His hand was the first on the buzzer for almost all the questions and he answered them all flawlessly too. The only ones he had to back up and let one of his teammates take were the ones on some high-school drama TV show that everyone probably knows that Logan doesn’t watch.

Virgil was awed the entire time, eyes following with rapt attention as Logan and the girl asking the questions did their back and forth. A question followed by only a millisecond of silence before Logan’s hand was on the buzzer and he was saying the correct answer.

Virgil’s face lit up, his mouth stretching into a smile that made his bruised cheeks hurt, his body protesting as he jumped up to clap with everyone at the end. Logan stood with his team to accept the state trophy.

Virgil’s body felt stiff when be stood. Too much sitting causing his legs to feel slightly jelly-like as he pushed them to be straight again. He watched as people started to mill around, families talking to their kids and friends laughing, shelling out money at the concession stand.

His smile had faded a little, muting from one of pure elation to a a small pull at his lips’ corners. His eyes lidded and sad.

He pulled his hood tighter around his face, eyes tracing over the floor before he turned. He was ready to go to walk home. Just as he moved a hand lightly gripped his shoulder, tugging a little to stop him.

Virgil’s shoulders scrunched up, body pulling away a little, “Who-,” he began, his eyes connecting with another person’s. His voice was all at once buried under stuttering as he turned to see that the hand belonged to Patton. Patton whose face was beaming eyes large and shining.

“I- wha-what?” He asked, tongue not cooperating.

It never cooperated.

“Well! I just wanted to thank you!” Patton said, and Virgil’s eyes softened at his earnest smile. “I’m the student council president and I’ve noticed that you’re at almost every school event even though you’re new!” Virgil nodded numbly, cheeks reddening. Patton kept going, his hands moving with each word in an expressiveness that made Virgil’s eyes follow each movement with longing.

“Yeah- I mean- Yeah- I- Logan’s amazing at- you know-,” Virgil managed, voice rough as his eyes flickered over to where Logan was standing. He was being congratulated by his teammates, what Virgil assumes are his parents proudly beaming at him from just behind him.

“Oh!” Patton exclaimed, making Virgil’s eyes pull back to the boy in front of him. “Do you want to say hi!” Patton said, making Virgil choke on his spit,

“N-NO- I mean- I- I’m good I-, he looks busy.” Virgil backed away, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Nonsense! Logan wouldn’t mind at all! C’mon!” Patton grabbed Virgil’s wrist, pulling it out of his hood and moving forward. Virgil felt the warmth from the contact run threw his cold skin. His legs numbly moved forward, automatically letting himself be lead by Patton. His mind was held by the feeling of light tangible pressure on the surface of his skin.

Physical contact being instigated by his soulmate.

When Virgil’s head finally managed to pull itself from it’s stunned fog, he was standing directly outside of the small group around Logan. His heart rate sped, making his mind halt as Patton moved him past each body around them, leading him through the crowd till they were at the center of it.

Virgil’s mind pulled him back in time, the taste of dirt in his mouth as he was surrounded by other kids. Their laughter filled his ears and the sticky contents of a juice box pooled between his legs. The words echoed in his mind, raking over his heart, “VIRGIL WET HIMSELF!”

“-you okay?” Virgil’s eyes snapped to look into the concerned irises of Patton and Logan. The sting of shame and panic pierced him. The feeling vibrated under his skin and he gave them a tight smile.

“I- y- yeah I’m fine.” He said his voice low. The outlines of his body felt fuzzy, the noises of the auditorium just pulling back in as the static cleared his ears.

His eyes kept darting from Patton to Logan.

“You sure kiddo? Do you need to sit down?” Patton asked, his voice gentle, and Virgil wanted to be engulfed by the ground, he wanted to pass out, or stop existing. Anything to pull himself away from this moment.

Away from Patton’s concerned eyes.

Virgil mutely nodded, something in his chest turning sour as he allowed Patton to sit him down on the edge of the stage. He watched as Patton gave him one last smile before moving to stand by Logan.

Virgil stared at Patton’s back as he left, his hands clenching and teeth gritting.

‘Here I am!’ he thought to himself, mentally screaming at Patton, at Logan. Mentally shouting to all that might hear him.

Which in this case is nobody.

‘A first impression to fit someone so-… like me’, he screwed his eyes shut, and suddenly everything was uncomfortable and overwhelming. The pressure of the wood of the stage digging into this thighs and each sound that his his ears from the people around the room.

He heard Logan say goodbye to each of the members of the group, and Virgil felt each pair of eyes that glanced at him as they left, the feeling making him pull his hood further down.

“Oh well- who is this, he _definitely_  doesn’t look like a drowned rat.” Virgil’s eyes snapped open locking with some guy in a bright yellow button up shirt and a bowler hat. The sudden light and colour made Virgil sag.

He was just so tired.

Virgil glanced back to the other two just as they turned back to him. Both of their eyes locked on the other guy at almost the same time, Logan’s back straightening, his eyes darkening while Patton sent an unsure crooked smile their way.

“What are you doing here Fraus?” Logan asked, walking over pulling his spine as tall as he could, standing himself in front of Patton.

“I’m just here to say- as a friend of  _course_ , that with all this competition going on for the lead of the play, you guys should probably get Roman to pull out,” He said face lax and voice casual, as Logan rolled his eyes.

“That is completely ludicrous we are not going to tell Roman to pull out of an addition when he is objectively most likely to win the lead.” Logan said, and Virgil turned to look at Fraus again.

Fraus’s eyes sharpened and he sent a glare at Logan before turning to Patton. Virgil sat there, his eyes flickering from one face to another as the agitated feeling burned under his skin.

“Well- unfortunately- I’m auditioning too and-well… we all know,  _objectively_ , he can’t beat me.”

Logan crossed his arms while Patton gave a halted nervous laugh. “Ahe-hehe… umm I’m sure Roman will appreciate the friendly competition!” Patton said.

Fraus scoffed, and Patton’s smile fell from his face in a way that made bile rise in Virgil’s throat. Patton’s eyes bounced between Logan and Fraus his hands fiddling with one another in his lap.

Fraus was suddenly looking at Virgil head on, eyes shooting up and down his body in quick succession, making Virgil wrap his arms around his chest. Fraus’s eyes widened as they stuck on Virgil’s face.

“Well-,” He reached forward suddenly, two fingers swiftly knocking off Virgil’s hood revealing the colourful splashes of bruises up and down his face.

The full force of the light combined with the sound of gasps made him tightly close his eyes. A shot of pain hitting him at the movement. “I’ll just leave you to deal with that.” Fraus said, footsteps echoing away from them.

Virgil flinched his body itching as a hand gently cupped his cheek, the tightness of his face relaxing as he tentatively pressed into the palm. The bothered irritation in his skin hummed but the palm at his cheek was cool. The contact was overwhelming, but he couldn’t pull away. He couldn’t decide what was more uncomfortable.

He cracked an eye open to see Patton’s eyes scanning up and down his face. His other hand coming up to softly tilt his head around to see the damaged corners of his flesh.

Virgil was tense, his eyes blurring as Patton tisked over his injuries. His heart aching with everything he has ever wanted. The feeling of the heat and contact sent mixed signals to his brain and Virgil bit his lip painfully forcing himself to push down the full feeling. His eyes slowly drying as he blinked back tears.

“What happened?” Patton asked. Virgil barely brought himself back enough to be able to shrug.

“-guys.. at - my school…” Virgil managed to get out, and Patton sighed.

“Savage,” Logan stated and Virgil straightened his back, looking over Patton’s shoulder to peer at Logan.

“Um… why are you complimenting them?” Patton asked,

“What? I’m saying that they must have been disgusting savages- Oh, Is this another contemporary slang word I have to learn?” Logan groaned and Patton laughed, the sound lightening the dark cloud that Fraus had left on them.

Lifting the heat from his skin by just a little as the sound made his lips quirk.

He watched the both of them have a back and forth as he sat on the edge of the stage. The light banter they had making an awful feeling shove itself into his chest making his heart feel like it was being stuffed with cotton.

He sagged down onto the floor, body wobbling. His arms shook, chest shallowly expanding, but he needed to get going or he’d be walking home in the dark.

He gave a sparing glance at the two of them, his mind pulling him down into the depths of turmoil as one succinct thought wrapped every emotion he had up with a little bow.

‘That will never be you.’

He pulled himself from the auditorium, feeling the sharpness of the air, a sign that it was just starting to turn cold. The wind clearing his chest as he managed to finally breathe. The solitary feeling pushed the vibrations of itchy irritation out of his flesh enough to allow him some respite. The trees around the school building rustled and Virgil pulled his hoodie back over his head, smashing down the feelings that were making his breath hitch.

Virgil walked.

Not in the direction of home. Not to the cold empty house that just reminded him of everything again, all at once.

He walked but it was aimless, the fear of the dangers of getting lost stifled under the fear of his own emotions.

Virgil walked.

**Scribbles**

Virgil felt the wind bite at his cheeks. The neon orange of the sign burning through the night, lighting up the street with the kind of artificial light that screamed ‘city life’.

Downtown always seemed to be a hop and skip around the corner, but the change between the seedy areas and the street with Virgil’s empty apartment seemed unassessable.

The sign blared the words ‘Black Burns’, flashing them into the street without the mortification that everyone had tried to bury the very idea in.

Virgil stood outside, hands numbing in the cold as the wind blew the heat his body was desperately trying to create right out from under him. The darkness enveloped his face, hiding the bruises from view. He pulled his body to peer into the bar, the light thump of rock music barely reaching his ears.

There was a lot of people, but it was such a big area that the space wasn’t particularly crowded. A lot of men and women alike seemed to have their shirts off, showing their black marks with pride. Virgil’s eyes traced over the lines of half naked people and tables, the bar in the back illuminated with the same deep orange of the neon sign.

Virgil turned at the sound of footsteps, his head whipping around, and heart pounding. A blond woman was walking to the door. The low collar of her top showing off the black heart shaped burn over her actual heart. The mark meaning that she was a soulless, an actual soulless. She passed him, reaching for the door handle. She pushed into the bar, giving him a slight head tilt in greeting before entering.

Virgil watched the door close, his body jerkily pulled itself an inch towards the door before he stopped. His eyes glanced inside the bar again.

He felt like it would be disrespectful to enter. He wasn’t born with the same black marks. He was an outsider.

He was always an outsider, whether he was watching his peers, or with them, at home or at school, whether or not he was in the best school in the country or the worst in the district. He was doomed to this feeling of otherness. The idea that something so integral to being human, something as simple as human connection could be so hard for him made him a freak. He was a freak.

He leaned forward on the glass pressing his forehead against the window, the cold of the glass seeping further into his skull before his forehead started to warm it.

“You just gonna stand there kid?” He whipped around to see a rather burly man holding the door open form the inside of the bar, an eyebrow raised.

Virgil swallowed, shoulders falling. The cold air swept up again, and Virgil let out an involuntary shiver. He paused before screwing his eyes shut and darting into the building, ducking under the man’s arm.

The blast of warm air was almost suffocating and he shakily moved around the space. His hoodie made the air sweltering, the people making him start to sweat as the groups of potentially judging eyes surrounded him.

He settled down at the bar when it was apparent that that was the only corner that didn’t have a loud bunch of lively people.

The bar stool dug into his thighs and he hunched over the counter, eyes pulling over the wood as he the nausea from fear and guilt rolled around his stomach.

“You can pull down your hood now sweetie.” Virgil’s head snapped up to see the bartender standing near him, writing something down on a notepad. She quirked a smile to him setting down what she was doing before turning to him. “Celia, but most folks here just call me C.C.” She stuck her hand out and Virgil stared down at it for a moment, before meeting it with his own.

“Uh- V-I’m…” His eyes darted around. He wasn’t sure if this was the kind of place you gave your real name out in.

C.C. laughed  her eyes crinkling in the corners and dimples in her cheeks. “That’s fine honey, you take your time, most do when it comes to this place. I should know I’m the owner,”

Virgil’s eyes widened hand pulling away from hers as he stuck it back in his hoodie pockets. C.C. eyed him for a second, a smile quirking at her lips before she pulled out a coke and handed it to him.

He eyed the drink as his fingers rhythmically tapped the sides, his mouth pulled down at the corners. “I could have been twenty-one,” he said petulantly.

C.C. eyed him with an un-amused look.“Now that’s your best joke yet sweet-pea.” She stated flatly, “Don’t let me catch you in here with a fake I.D. kid, drinking ain’t all that interest’en.” She flipped the notepad closed before sticking the pen in the spiral at the top. “We’re a kid friendly environment here and we got plenty of soda, that one’s on the house so you better drink it.” Virgil stopped his tapping, looking down at the drink before cracking it open. “And i meant it about the hood. We know a thing or two about bruises. People are jack-shit when it comes to anyone different then ‘em.”

Virgil looked up at her, his lips pulled down and shoulders hunched. He glanced around, his hand slowly reaching up to pull at the rim of his hood. He yanked it in one swift motion, eyes squinting a little as the unhindered force of the light hit his irises.

He nervously gripped his soda, pulling it up to take a large gulp before pulling it down again. The sweetener made him gag a little and the carbonation burned as it went down.

How long has it been since he had a soda?

He looked up to see C.C.’s mouth had pressed itself into a line, her eyes looking up and down his face.

“You want some cream for that sweet-pea?” She asked making Virgil raise an eyebrow.

“Cream? for - wait what?” He asked clearing his throat from the rough sound in his throat. She place her hand on the counter leaning forward a little, a hand on her hip.

“Bruise cream? For your face?” She said, and Virgil shrugged.

“Will that help?” He asked and she blew a puff of air out of her nose.

“I would imagine it would. You stay right here honey.” She walked around the counter, heels clicking up a set of stairs that was to the side of the bar.

Virgil sat there, shifting in his seat. His eyes ghosted over the peanut bowl before he swiped the thing over to him. His hands busying themselves by peeling open peanut shells and tossing them into the empty bowl besides the peanuts.

“Here we go honey,” She said, and Virgil turned just as she walked over to him. He froze, face tensing as C.C. reached down and pulled his chin up. The sensation tingled as she squirted a little bit of the cream on her hand.

Dabbing two fingers into it, she began rubbing some under one of his black eyes. The rhythmic motions of her hands and the light pressure on his skin made something rise in his chest and before he knew what was happening his eyes were blurring and wetness streaming down his cheeks, his tears washing away the cream that was just applied.

“Oh honey,” C.C whispered, pulling the other bar stool forward as she placed the tube of bruise cream on the bar. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?” She asked the question tentatively, as Virgil started pressing his palms into his eye sockets. Gritting his teeth through the pain as he tried to get the tears to just stop.

C.C. pulled his hands from his face, tisking. “There ain’t no shame in crying,” She stated, cupping his hands in hers and letting both of theirs fall to his lap.

“My mom’s in the hospital.” He stated voice emotionless, his eyes connected with the wood of the floor.

Virgil saw C.C. nod her head in his peripheral vision. Virgil said nothing else, just sat in silence as C.C. reached up with her right hand and slowly rubbed the cream into his face with deliberate circular motions.

“Well, i’d ask who did this to you but I know all too well how those soul-miserables can be to those who practice Monoality.” She said shaking her head and walking back behind the counter to wash her hands.

“Monoality?” Virgil asked, eyebrows creasing a little as he rubbed in a spot of cream that was missed under his chin.

“It’s the word we coined for ourselves, it means that we practice singularity. It’s a lot nicer than ‘soulless’ in most of our opinion” She raised her hands open palmed in the air, fingers splayed, “Of course I’m not the main authority on that, everyone has a different opinion when it comes to names.” She whipped her hand on her apron before turning to lean against the bar again. “Essentially- We don’t need a relationship to be happy.” She finished looking Virgil in the eye.

“Yo- i mean-like, you guys like to be alone or?” Virgil said, voice quiet and shaky as he asked.

“Well, it depends on who you ask. I know some people have been going by Asexual or Aromantic and those things are having no want for a sexual or romantic relationship and sometimes both, but there are also people who just like to be able to pick someone for themselves and not have some unknown force pick for them.” C.C. said her hand pulling the bowl of peanut shells off the counter to empty.

“So like… why would you not- I mean how do you like …pick…” Virgil stuttered, voice lowering at the end unsurly.

She laughed eyes crinkling and Virgil’s mouth pinched shut eyes falling to the floor.

“Well then, i guess you do have a soulmate don’t you?” C.C. said and Virgil’s eyes widened, his head shooting up, mouth opening and closing a few times not knowing what to say.

“It’s okay honey, you’re welcome here regardless but i have to wonder who hurt your pretty face then,” Virgil shrugged, before sighing and pressing his hands against his face, sending burning through his skin that he couldn’t bring himself to care about at the moment.

“I- it’s- long and … personal really - i’m not- i don’t-“

“Honey one way or another those feelings are going to come out, what better a place to empty out then somewhere with people you’ll never see again.”

Virgil’s hands pressed against his forehead, back arched and elbows on his knees, he stared at the floor, eyes moving along the scratches and dull colour that marred the wood.

The sounds of clinking glass and liquid pouring started up, a few people coming and going as Virgil spent his time hunched over.

He could tell her, i mean he was terrible at telling anyone anything, words were not his forte. He was awkward and stuttered more than he said, but it wasn’t like that mattered much here.

His fear of judgement was unwarranted, he knew it was stupid, but that didn’t make the fear go away.

With each breath he worked himself up and broke himself back down. Telling himself he was going to say something just to imagine every possible worst scenario outcome that he could.

“You don’t have to tell me your life story,” Virgil pulled himself  to look up at C.C. who was putting money in the register that she just got. The empty cups of past customers still sitting along the bar. Virgil’s back ached, crying out at him for his awful posture as he grimaced and straightened himself, bending his back and giving it a loud crack.

C.C. Gave him an amused look, “sit up straight kid.” She put the money in the register before continuing, “here, let’s start with this, where did you get the bruises, a brother? Did you get in a fight?”

Virgil licked his lips shaking his head slightly before mentally backtracking and shrugging, “I mean yeah it was a fight i guess.” He decided on and C.C. Quirked her eyebrow at him.

“‘I guess’ he says, either it was a fight or not.” C.C. pulled up one of the dirty glasses, hands working a cloth over it too start to clean it.

“I don’t know, we’d been fighting for a while but- it used to be like… well he, for no reason- er i guess it was… it could’ve been me or something i don’t know.” C.C. put the glass down resting her hand on her hip.

“What could’ve been you?” She asked, and Virgil threw his hands in the air.

“I don’t know! I don’t know what i did- something apparently!? Eight years- er well i started to fight back but i mean this kid was bullying me and i have no idea why! He just assumed i was a- soul- um a mono- person thing and then … i just. I never knew why he hated me so much.” Virgil said, and he looked up to see C.C.’s puzzled face.

“So uh- you have a bully and you started to fight him and you don’t know why he’s bullying you?” She tried, and Virgil nodded, close enough, his body sagged into the seat, eyes connected with the dark liquid in his soda.

“Well, it might not have been you.” she stated and Virgil’s eyes watched the bubbles rise in his drink, mind running over the words, “If you never told him you didn’t have a soulmate then he probably would have been mean to you no matter what. Some people are just cruel enough to see an easy target and just take it.” She said, and Virgil leaned back a little to let his eyes meet with hers again.

“What about your soulmate? Where are they? Across the pacific ocean or something?” She pulled the empty cups on the surrounding table to start cleaning them, “most soulmates can’t stand it when their other half is unhappy.” C.C. asked and Virgil grimaced. His eyes lowered. Across the pacific ocean, more like five seats down from him in math. God he’s pathetic.

“They- believe me- they wouldn’t care. No one- …wants me as a soulmate.” Virgil said and C.C. hummed.

“That’s not how soulmates work hun.” She stated and Virgil froze, mouth hanging open as his mind race to catch up to what she just said. Slowly he began shaking his head a hand threading through his hair.

“They- I’m not good… f-for- them-… anyone.” He managed to say and C.C. set the cups down, all of them clean.

“Sweetheart, god, or magic- whichever you subscribe too-,”

“Fate.” Virgil interjected carefully, eyes darting to those around them.

“Fate-” C.C. nodded, “it’s never wrong. It matches those who want soul mates up perfectly and for those whose lives wont fit with that version of relationships it leaves alone.” Virgil vehemently shook his head again. His knuckles cracking as his fist tightened its grip digging his fingernails into his palm. C.C. pressed on, “Honey, Fate can’t get things wrong, it’s not possible-,”

“Apparently not! If it was so good at its job my mother wouldn’t be dying in a hospital because my dad killed himself!”

Virgil watched on in horror as the words came out of his mouth. His breath hitched as his eyes widened mouth opening and closing as if to reclaim everything he just said.

“Oh sweet-pea,” C.C. said, the sympathy in her voice making Virgil flinch. “That has nothing to do with fate.” She said a hand reaching out to him. He pulled away, standing up right behind the bar stool.

“Sometimes it’s not people,” she said softly as he leaned forward, bracing himself against the bar stool. “Sometimes it’s society.” Virgil shook his head, hands going up to rub his eyes but C.C. Just continued “I have to say that a lot of us here would be happier if society didn’t condemn us as cursed or what-not. We’re all individuals that need different things. You’re father could have been happy with your mother, but he didn’t get the help he needed.”

Virgil threw his hands in the air, tears running down his face.

“Fate was wrong!” He said firmly but something in his stomach dropped as C.C. just shook her head.

“Fate doesn’t get things wrong sweet-pea.”

Everything was silent, the ringing in his ears pushing the music, the chatter and the clinking of glasses out of his ears.

Virgil’s mind silenced. The voice that yelled at him every second of the day, telling him everything wrong with him, for the first time in his life, was quiet.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil hated himself, he hated the sun, he hated being alive. The pain in his skull made him want to vomit, which he had already done to his heart’s content that morning, but his current illness was overshadowed by the fact that he was late.

Virgil hated himself, he hated the sun, he hated being alive. The pain in his skull made him want to vomit, which he had already done to his heart’s content that morning, but his current illness was overshadowed by the fact that he was late.

Virgil’s eyes kept themselves stuck to the cement in front of him. His legs pushing himself forward as he essentially jogged to work. A pulse of sharp pain throbbed in his skull and each step made his stomach protest loudly, threatening to make him take a pit-stop to up-chuck.

He ran up to the building, his eyes focusing on the big red letters of the sign as he pulled himself forward. Now wasn’t the time for a breakdown.

He threw his hands out, pushing the double doors open as he ran inside the shop. The bell rang obnoxiously, making Virgil momentarily wince at the sharp pain it sent through his throbbing head.

“Welcome to Strip’s Com- oh Virgil!” Allen said, his eyes widening as Virgil dragged his body over the front desk and moved to the back to pull on his red apron.

“If Charlie asks I was here the whole time.” He says and Allen laughs, eyes looking Virgil up and down before looking at the clock,

“Eh, you’re only, like, twenty-two minutes late- that’s better than most days,”

“Dur-her-her,” Virgil mocked, “i hope you don’t-… you’re not going to- um- rat me out or anything right?” Virgil asked, out of breath. His hands fumbled to tie the apron strings and Allen held his hands up in a placating motion.

“Dude, if i was going to rat you out i would have done it month one and not month three,” Allen said, clapping Virgil on the back as he came to stand by him at the front desk. Virgil felt bile rise in the back of his throat at the force of Allen’s hand and he swallowed back the bitter taste looking up again to see a concerned look creasing Allens face. “i already clocked you in, on time by the way, though…” Allen trailed off and Virgil tensed.

“I mean… you might wanna- cut back? I mean we all party but…” Allen said. Virgil’s face tensed, his jaw tightening. The tenseness in his head worsening at the action.

“I’m not hungover.” Virgil stated plainly.

“Dude, i can- like- smell the vomit on you.” Virgil grimaced, pulling the collar of his shirt up to sniff.

“Wait- are you like, are you sick? Like actually-,” Virgil, hunched, pressing his body closer to the registrar and Allen frowned at him, “dude! Seriously if not for yourself at least stay home so you don’t get me sick!”

Virgil shook his head, the motion just making him feel dizzy, “i can’t- need the money.” He said before slowly lowering his head to the cool wood of the table.

“Hhhhh- are you sure, because i don’t want to leave you- if like- you’re gonna die or something?” Allen said and Virgil waved his hand,

“I can handle it.” He started putting all his energy into heaving himself back up, straightening his back as best he could while Allen rose an eyebrow.

“Yeah- i don’t believe you-“ he glanced to the clock before looking at Virgil again, “but i have to get home and take off my binder, I’ve been like, seriously pushing the eight hour limit and That’s not good for my chest.” Allen pulled his stuff from the back, his eyes meeting with Virgil once more. “If you need something call me,” he said finally.

He pulled on his coat, meeting Virgil’s eyes once more before leaving Virgil alone in the store.

Virgil sighed, his body sagging as he pulled himself away from the front desk, eyes scanning around the shop once before he turned.

Virgil pulled the back of his apron, loosening the tightness of the fabric around his waist. He reached his hand out around the edge of the empty door frame that lead to the back, before he pulled the bin out. He pulled that to the front of the store throwing it under the table before reaching back down and pulling out the stool.

If he wasn’t sitting he was probably going to pass out.

The store was normally empty on Wednesdays, most people deciding to wait for the weekend. Which was just as well for Virgil’s Illness slowed brain.

He sighed his tired body sagging as the quiet of the empty store weighed down on him.

His eyes scanned around the store before connecting with a window.

The Cedar Cafe was still going strong. The people sitting outside were all bundled up in the air of the cooler fall weather, each one chatting about something. Virgil spared the strangers a glance before his lips quirked up at a familiar group of regulars.

Roman smiled, his lips pulling in a way that made Virgil’s heart burst. Patton kissed a dot of coffee cream off Roman’s nose, and the three of them laughed. Logan smiled, as Roman pulled both of them in for a group hug, Patton snuggling right under the crook of Roman’s chin.

Virgil’s lips pulled up before dangerously wobbling, falling into a crooked grimace.

He could tell them, he could go over there and tell all of them. His eyes snapped over to the small cup of pens and his mind did somersaults.

He could take these pens and write everything, he could pull the words he always wanted to say to them and print them neatly on his wrist. He could let the black ink be his voice, but then what? Does he tell them that he was stalking them for the past ten years? That he had invaded private conversations that they didn’t know he was privy to. Does he tell him about every picture and word that they wrote that he treasured?

He spent so long in silence, how could he ever go about breaking that.

Roman was tracing a finger along the back of Logan’s neck, his arm securely wrapped around Patton who was leaning against Roman’s chest, his face almost breaking with the smile that stayed there,

The more he watched the more he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see himself with them, there was no crook he could fit, no room for him in an already complete relationship.

_‘Fate doesn’t make mistakes’_

The words echoed in his head, his heart gripping them with all the strength it could.

He watched the three of them in their own little world, his own somehow billions of light-years away despite reality placing him just across the street from them.

When Patton pulled away from Roman, his eyes connected with something down the sidewalk and a frown tugged at his lips. Virgil’s head pulled in the same direction as Patton’s eyes, stretching his neck to try and see what was happening. His body tipping the stool a little bit as he leaned over the table.

Fraus walked up, approaching the three of them. His shoulders were set and arms crossed over his chest, and Virgil tensed, his heartbeat thudding in his ears as his mind swapped ideas with itself.

He’d seen this kind of anger before.

Fraus gestured saying something and Roman stood, walking over and reaching his hand out for the other to shake. Fraus ignored it, forcing Roman to awkwardly lower it back to his side.

Virgil watched, his hands twitching, moving his fingertips over the wood of the table. Logan stood rounding around the table and saying something that made Fraus wave his hand at him.

Fraus turned back to Roman before saying something that made the other start laughing. Logan shook his head as Patton sat behind them, his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes jumping between his soulmates and Fraus.

Fraus rolled his eyes before turning, hands moving into the pocket of his jeans. He looked up, and Virgil’s breath stopped in his throat as Fraus’s eyes connected with his own.

“Sorry I totally forgot my phone!” The sound of the bell on the door made his eyes snap back to see Allen standing in the doorway. Allen moved forward, carefully sliding on his stomach over the surface of the counter, his hand brushing along Virgil’s side as he grabbed his phone from where it was charging under the desk.

Virgil turned his head back to see that Fraus was gone, the other three trying to continue their evening.

“Looks like you made a set up here- uh… did i interrupt something or…”

“I…. no” Virgil said, shaking his head. “It- I’m uh- sure it was nothing.”

**Scribbles**

His body pulled into the kitchen, face lax and sad as he felt the loneliness of the empty house press into him.

Home sweet home, as it ever was.

He pulled a chair along the floor, moving its side flush with the table in front of the small piles of bills that were stacked neatly together.

His right hand clutched the social security envelope he had grabbed from the mailbox this morning. His fingers carefully ran along the edge of the government issued money.

He barely had enough to make rent and hospital bills this month.

Not that the government knew that or anything.

He doesn’t need CPS disrupting the delicate balance of his life.

He’s barely built up enough hope to hang a future on, now is not the time for a life changing event.

Now is not the time for anyone to find out that he is now both father, and motherless.

His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, his fingers feeling the heat from his fever as his mouth pressed his chapped lips together tightly.

At least he was too nauseous to be hungry. He’d have to skip meals for a few more days in order to cover everything.

He pulled his backpack up, pulling his hoodie off the floor. His eyes glanced over the blue scrawl on his wrist. Logan’s small lists that he never bothered to stop writing. Virgil smiled his eyes crinkling in the corners as he pulled the hoodie on. Face falling as he slung his backpack around his shoulder.

The weight of it made the fatigue suddenly hit him full force.

He leaned forward his forehead pressing against the wood of the door and he sighed heavily. The bus would be here soon, and Virgil was not in a position to walk to school today.

He pulled the backpack on more firmly, pulling the other strap up his shoulder. Each movement felt like it sapped half his energy, and when he was done he stood in front of his door for a second.

The air was sharp, winter was fast on it’s way, bulldozing over fall as November promised heavy snow. Virgil stood outside, the wind seemingly blowing through his hoodie as he struggled to stop shivering.

The bus was warm, not warm enough to bring any comfort to his fevered body, but enough for him to uncoil his arms from his torso and allow his blood flow to continue. Each bump and rock in the bus made his stomach lurch. The turns seemingly making it their mission to get him to throw up.

As soon as he stepped in the school his headache increased, the throbbing turning to a sharp pain as the fluorescent lights blared overhead.

He moved to walk down the hallway to the nearest bathroom, his body slowly moving to try and not upset his delicate equilibrium.

He started, eyes snapping fully open as a hand wrapped around his shoulder, roughly pulling him back.

“Come here.” The voice was sharp as an arm hooked around Virgil’s neck pulling him away from the front doors and into a hallway. His heart sped up as he desperately tried to pull out of the grip, only to have the owner of the arm grunt at him.

Suddenly he was being thrown to the back of a dead end, his stomach twisting threateningly as he pushed back vomit. He must have inhaled a little stomach acid since he started violently coughing, a burning sensation spreading in his lungs. The wall at the end of the hallway looming over him as the two figures stood at his only exit.

“Well aren’t you  _pleasant_.” Virgil’s eyes snapped up, still letting out small coughs as Fraus and his friend stood in front of him, the former with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Wh- What-,”

“-do i want? Well  _thank you_  for asking, you really are so  _eloquent_ ” Fraus said his eyes rolling as his friend snickered. “What I want is Roman’s part in the show, but that’s over and done with already and there’s no changing Mr. Schne’s mind.” Fraus said, waving his hand dismissively before stepping forward and looming over Virgil’s hunched form.

“Now? Now all i want is Roman’s face crushed with disappointment when his big night is ruined.” Virgil’s eyes snapped open, his mouth drying up at what he was hearing.

“Why- why are you… telling me all this?” Virgil asked his brain carding through the information frantically. Bracing his back up against the wall as his legs threatened to give out on him.

He was so tired.

Fraus sighed pulling his hand to rub at his forehead in annoyance, “because, you are the only one who regularly has to be around Allen, and he’s the only one who ever talks to Rigby who handles all the rope and light tech stuff including the snow for the solo scene.”

“Th- The, wait- the snow?”

“Yes! yes! The ‘snow’, It’s flour that’s in a box that’s basically a sifter.” Fraus said dismissively waving his hand, “Rigby is the one to hang it above the stage, but we have literally never talked to him before.” Fraus’s eyes closed as he propped a closed fist on his hip. “Not that that really matters, we could do it with or without him but having him on board would be easier than not.”

Virgil felt his mind rushing to conclusions, “Wh- are you going- what are you going to-,”

“Oh, my god. Can you just speak like a normal person please and thank you?!” Fraus shouted making Virgil shrink back a little, his head stinging at the noise.

“We are going to add water to it. It’ll be too thick to go through the holes on the bottom but as soon as we tip it,” Fraus smirked trailing off, “well let’s just say that I hope Roman is ready for a  _slushy snow-day_.”

Virgil’s heart fell, the image of Roman’s crushed face filling his mind. Roman loves performing, Virgil couldn’t take it if he was humiliated doing something he loved.

“N-No-,”

“Think!” Fraus shouted over him, “-very, very carefully before you answer.” He said, “why would you care? You have no obligation to any of those three, you’ve talked to them for like what? Ten minutes?”

“T-twenty six.” Virgil stuttered out making Fraus roll his eyes.

“Yeah, and knowing that _totally_  isn’t creepy.” Fraus turned to his friend who handed him a few pieces of paper. “Virgil huh?” He read off the page making Virgil jump, “you could get into any college of your choice with your talents, however you seemed to be… _lacking_  in the money department.”

Virgil shifted, pressing his back against the wall behind him as Fraus slowly got closer.

“What you need is a good scholarship, and I happen to _know_  a few judges in a few competitions,” Virgil’s eyes widened as Fraus leaned forward, his face inches from Virgil’s, “-that might be able to help.”

Virgil’s heart stopped, his eyes frozen on Fraus as his body slowly slid down the wall.

His stomach gave a dangerous lurch and he was suddenly on his feet, elbowing past Fraus ignoring his shout of “hey!” As he booked it to the bathroom.

He slammed into the wall, barely making it in time to bend his body over to throw up in the trash can by the bathroom door. His body convulsed, his hair sticking to his forehead in a cold sweat as slowly the nausea ebbed off enough for him to lean against the wall, slipping onto his haunches.

He his eyes locked with the floor, the dirt there inconsequential as he slowly laid down on his side. He pressed his forehead into the cool tiles his headache momentarily giving him some relief. His arms wrapped around his knees as he cradled himself.

The silence echoed in his ears until the sound of one of the sinks dripping finally came into focus. He curled his body into the hard surface of the floor, his shoulder crying out. The position making his stomach settle just enough to warrant ignoring the discomfort.

He gripped his abdomen, his eyes pulling his head up as he stared at the ceiling.

He found his eyes taking in a familiar sight, the same panels that were on every school ceiling stretching over him. The same tiles that he stared at any time he was sick.

Virgil sighed, slowly moving his body to lay on his back before he let his head fall to the wayside, loosely pulling the muscles of his neck in a way that increased the pain in his head.

He groaned.

“Well that was embarrassing.” He mumbled to himself, pulled his legs to bend, bracing his hand against the wall as he pulled himself up.

Though he’s not exactly sure who it was more embarrassing for, Fraus was giving him what essentially amounted to a super-villain rant and Virgil left in the middle of it in order to throw up.

Virgil, tipped his forehead to lean it’s side up against the bathroom wall. His eyes closed momentarily before he pushed off the wall, slowly moving to the sinks.

He ran the water from the one that was dripping, the temperature was cool as he wet his hand and pressed it to his feverish forehead. He bent down, sloshing a mouthful of water behind his cheeks before spitting out the liquid and the taste of vomit along with it.

His arms stretched out on either side of himself, locking in place as he looked at himself in the mirror.

The conversation from earlier replayed in his head, each word that Fraus said making Virgil’s head spin.

“Who would want to hurt Roman?” He whispered to himself, the words echoing back to him.

“What the-“ The sound had Virgil turning, his body moving just enough to face the new comer. “is that smell- did you throw up!” Mr. Schne said, looking into the trash can before turning back to Virgil, “Okay!” He said, reaching out his hand and wrapping a hand around the back of Virgil’s neck. “We’re taking you to the nurse,”

“No! I- um…” Virgil looked at Mr. Schne who gave him a raised eye brow but continued to walk. “I… have a test? And- I need to take it.” Virgil said, as Mr. Schne pulled them out the bathroom doors.

Mr. Schne narrowed his eyes, before sighing mumbling out a “You kids and your-” before continuing, “Fine! but you are to go straight home afterward,” he said, and Virgil nodded, slumping his shoulders in relief as Mr. Schne removed his hand.

Virgil watched Mr. Schne walk down the hallway before he attempted dragging his body to his class. His eye glancing through the window at the clock in the room to see that he was fifteen minutes late. He grimaced, before pulling himself to walk into the class.

He wasn’t lying, he really did have a test today. A test that he had already accepted that he was going to fail. There was no point in attempting to calculate correlation coefficients when he was pretty sure that if someone put a multiplication problem down in front of him he wouldn’t get the answer right.

When he entered the room, he ducked down, pressing himself to the wall and quietly moving to his desk in the back. His heart sending a prayer out to every god that the teacher wouldn’t notice him. When he sat down he looked up to see the teacher staring at her computer screen, barely paying attention to the students who were doing some kind of book work.

Virgil, let out the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, his shoulders slumping as he arranged himself in his seat. His hand reached down to grab his book and he froze. Eyes locking with the unfamiliar red ink that was trailing hearts along the side the blue writing on his hand.

He looked up, head craning a little to poke out from behind the person in front of him. He let out a small shaky exhale as he saw Roman doodling on his hand. The lines of the red pen being carefully guided as he drew.

Virgil ducked down again, pulling his limbs in a small pile on the chair. He pulled his aching head down on the desk, moving his wrist up and laying it in his eyesight. His eyes traced over the small doodles, a smile creeping over his lips.

“Oh, Virgil, you’re here?” Virgil’s head shot up to see the teacher looking at him, “i marked you absent, sorry, say something next time will you?” Virgil nodded, a snicker echoing from the other side of the classroom.

Virgil smiled a little, cradling his hand, before his face suddenly darkened.

Fraus wasn’t going to be getting away with anything. Not while Virgil is here.

**Scribbles**

Virgil didn’t know the ‘how’ of how he was going to stop Fraus. He just knew that no matter what he was going too.

He hunched, back into the theater wishing, not for the first time, that he wasn’t sick as he wiped the water from his mouth. His eyes glanced around at the few people that were still hanging out during the intermission. He held his ticket so hard that is was starting to crumple in his hands, pulling his hood up he took a deep breath.

His eyes snapped up to the ceiling of the stage. The container that was supposed to hold the ‘snow’ for the show, was attached to a rope. Virgil swallowed, his mouth dry as he watched a drop of water run down the side of it.

Looks like he was too late to stop that.

Virgil just hopped that Roman’s performance won’t be hurt by the lack of snow.

The audience started to file back in, and Virgil waited until the lights dimmed before he pulled his black hood over his head, ducking under the side of the curtain.

He was sweating, his hands clammy and headache only worsening under the bright lights. He managed to duck one more time under the back curtain just as the theater techies finished moving the props on stage. His eyes snapped up to follow the rope that was suspending the disaster mix over top the stage.

Virgil froze as Roman’s voice echoed behind him, his heart panged the sound echoing in his ears in a pleasant way. He blinked once before turning and using all his energy to run.

He had a prince to save.

He only needed to turn once more, before the end of the rope was in his sights, being clutched by Fraus and his friend.

Virgil didn’t slow down. He ignored his protesting body and rammed straight into Fraus. His elbow jabbing just beneath Fraus’s rib-cage, shoving him and his buddy away from the rope. The temporary moment of slack in the rope was enough to slosh the contents of the bucket. A small spill pouring out plopping on the floor just behind where Roman was giving his solo.

The very second the other two were out of the way, Virgil had his hands around the rope, eyes wide as he tried to pull it back, gritting his teeth at the sting of friction burn in his palms. The bucket was heavy, even with the pulley.

They had needed both of their strengths to be able to hold it steady and Virgil was not even half as strong as one of them, and he was sick.

But he was desperate.

He strained, arms aching as he pulled the rope back, the container rising in the air as he managed to pull the rope far enough that he was able to get it around a post. The rope slipped once, a surge of panic fluttering panic going through Virgil’s chest as he flailed to pull the rope back to him.

His hand trapped the rope against the pole, burning, stinging at the rope harshly scraping against his palm again. He pulled it once more before wrapping it enough to tie it to the pole. His hands throbbing.

“How could you!” Patton’s loud betrayed voice had all three of them turning their heads to see both his and Logan’s sullen, and rage filled faces.

Virgil felt something in his stomach drop.

Here the both of them were, angry and betrayed, and here Virgil was, standing next to the incriminating evidence with rope burns and two other members of the drama club on their butts.

Virgil’s head fell, as the familiar helpless feeling surged through him. The same feeling from when Ricky first locked him in a janitor’s closet, when a teacher sided with Ricky, or when he was first beat up by the entire basketball team.

The same helplessness he felt the first time his mother flat-lined.

“What has Roman ever done to you that you felt the need to do something like this! Do you even know how crushed he would be!” Patton’s voice was watery, voice breaking at the end.

Virgil’s eyes burned, and Patton started walking towards him, his hands balled up at his sides. Logan stood there, hands crossed over his chest. His face pinched with cold hostility.

Virgil’s eyes looked to the ground, his mind crushing him, yelling years worth of uncertainties, and throwing his entire life back in his face. Before the first tears could fall. The air was taken out of his lungs.

He sharply inhaled as Patton walks straight past him, eyes angrily leveled at Fraus and his friend.

“Roman tried! He tried time and time again to be friends with you two! I thought you were coming around! I gave you my cookies!” Patton shook his head standing directly over them. “but you just can’t look past your own jealousy huh!?” Virgil’s heart stopped in his chest, Patton’s words were sharp and his eyes were spilling small angry tears. Virgil’s world had frozen over as Logan came to stand beside him.

“If you are under the false assumption that we are not going to be reporting this to Mrs. Graves than you are gravely mistaken.” Logan said, eyes leveling and cold.

Patton snickered, the sound muted by the shakiness and roughness of his throat. “Wa-was that a ‘grave’ pun?” and Logan smiled at him,

“This time, i think it might be.”  Suddenly the both of them were hugging, and Virgil felt his breath leave his lungs once more. His eyes lowering to the ground the feeling of otherness filling his veins.

He didn’t belong here.

“ _Please_ ,” Fraus said, standing up smoothly as he leveled Virgil with a glare. “How could you possibly think it was us? We were only trying to stop this delinquent!” Virgil’s head snapped up to see Fraus pointing a finger at him. His eyes widened turning to Patton and Logan only to see Logan rolling his eyes.

“Falsehood.” He stated simply, “Firstly I want to point out that he has been at almost all the school events this year and has never caused any trouble once, but as further proof we had also been privy to his great rescue attempt.”

Virgil’s cheeks reddened. It wasn’t really all the school events it was just theirs, and it wasn’t a ‘great’ anything. He didn’t do anything remarkable he just panicked.

“I have the past data to prove that Mrs. Graves next course of action with you two will be nothing short of expulsion. If you need time to deliberate on that then i would take that time now.” Logan’s voice rang in his ears and Patton was suddenly in front of him, eyes soft in a way that made Virgil’s heart ache.

“May i see your hands?” The request was so soft, so kind that Virgil found himself paralyzed, eyes trapped in eye contact as Patton carefully gripped the bottom of Virgil’s wrists. Virgil sucked in a breath. The contact was warm. Patton’s grip was careful and secure.

It was so wonderful.

Patton turned his hands over to see his palms. Hissing at the red swollen welts marring the skin.

“Ow- that looks like it hurts kiddo!” His gripped stayed firm. The nausea hit Virgil again, the adrenaline leaving his veins only to leave pure fatigue in its wake. The headache pounding in Virgil’s brain as Patton rubbed his fingers along the bottom of his wrists.

The warmth and security of his grip pressing comfortably against Virgil’s wrists made Virgil slump. His tired brain in too much pain to pull back from the comfort.

“What is going on back here!” Mr. Schne’s voice rang out, and he walked over to the scene before him.

Mr. Schne’s eyes immediately went to Fraus and Logan as they both stepped up at the same time.

“Mr. Schne-,” Logan began at the same time as Fraus’s “This lunatic tried-,” the separate lines of dialog that happened after that were jumbled as the both of them tried to talk over one another.

“Children!” Mr. Schne interrupted them, “I don’t know what’s happening, but I suggest we start one at a time!” Mr. Schne looked to Patton, gesturing for him to speak. Patton cleared his throat and stepped up.

“Well, we were worried when we saw someone slip into the backstage of the play- especially since the snow effect wasn’t happening- and so we- uh me and Logan-,”

“Logan and I,” Logan corrected and Patton nodded,

“Logan and I went backstage- and we saw him,” Patton gestured to Virgil, and Virgil hunched into his hoodie a little more, “Ram into Fraus to get him away from the rope before pulling it back and tying it down.”

Fraus sputtered, “What!” His friend hauled himself up off the floor nodding along with whatever Fraus was saying, “So you agree with the fact that he needlessly assaulted me-,”

“Mr. Schne I implore you to pull that container down,” Logan stated, interrupting Fraus as he looked to Mr. Schne, “while our friend here was securing the rope, it managed to splash an opaque substance on the floor.”

Mr. Schne nodded, “Checking it sounds like reasonable enough proof to prove your story.” He turned to look at Fraus, “And if yours is true then you have nothing to fear. What do you say?” Fraus quietly stared at him for a moment. Fraus’s friend stood behind him, his eyes flicked back and forth between Virgil and Mr. Schne, before Fraus opened his mouth again.

“Sounds  _amazing_.”

Mr. Schne nodded at him before addressing all of them, “We’ll have to wait until the show is over, until then I will be staying back here with all of you to make sure nothing happens in the meantime.” Virgil sighed, leaning up against the wall as the throbbing in his head continued.

He needed to sit down.

“How about I go take care of our hero and get Mrs. Graves, you’ll want her here during the reveal and he needs something for his hands!” Patton said, and Mr. Schne tilted his head, before looking down at Virgil’s hands.

Mr. Schne hissed painfully at the sight, “What happened here!” He said and Virgil shrugged,

“R- Rope um- rope burn.” He said, his throat scratchy from having just having thrown up not twenty minutes ago. “I um- grabbed the rope when Fraus and his friend… let it go- and it was moving so I-…” He trailed off as Mr. Schne looked at him with disapproval.

“doing all that while you were sick! I thought I told you to go home and rest after yesterday’s school day.” Mr. Schne said and Virgil’s cheeks reddened, he didn’t think that he would remember that. Patton’s hands carefully let go of his wrists moving to lightly grip his shoulders.

“You’re sick!” He said, alarm potent in his voice and Virgil shrugged. His eyes locking with the floor as butterflies stirred in his stomach.

Or maybe that was just the nausea. Who knows.

“Go ahead and get Mrs. Graves,” Mr. Schne said before turning to look at Virgil, “I’m sorry, I would normally send you home but you have to stay and corroborate your side of the story, Patton you can-,” Mr. Schne didn’t have to finish his sentence as Patton was suddenly pulling Virgil along with him.

Virgil was surrounded by Patton’s light touches. The warm feeling of finger tips moving up and down Virgil’s arms and torso as he fussed over him. A hand briefly laying on his forehead before Patton was sitting him down in the front office.

“You stay right here okay kiddo?” Patton said, and Virgil was about to point out that they were the same age, but the chair was suddenly too comfortable and his stomach rolled in a way that made him curl around his abdomen.

When Virgil opened his eyes next, it was a bare two seconds before he was on his feet, vomiting in a small trash can besides the entrance of the office. He groaned, and jumped eyes snapping behind him as a hand started to lightly stroke at his back.

Patton, gave him a small smile, Mrs. Graves standing further back with her lips pinched in concern. Virgil pulled the sleeve of his hoodie up to wipe at the sweat on his brow, his eyes watering a little at the salt from the droplets that fell a little further down at the motion.

Patton hushed him, as he helped him up. A few more words were uttered, words that Virgil didn’t catch, before the trashcan was lightly being placed in his arms.

The action made him dry heave again, clutching the bin to his chest as he leaned against the warmth of whoever was beside him.

“Th-ank,” He stuttered out, being interrupted by another heave, and soon he was being slowly led out of the office.

The walk back to the auditorium was silent, and when they entered Virgil only had the awareness to acknowledge that everyone inside of it was gone. As the group moved backstage, the sounds of more frantic discussion could be heard and Virgil winced.

If this goes the wrong way that’s it. No more Sanders High.

Virgil let himself slump up against the wall, sliding down sit on the floor as soon as they were in the room.

“What’s wrong with Virgil?”

Virgil dragged his head up to see Roman standing there, concerned eyes turned to Patton who blinked.

“Is that his name?” Patton asked and Roman nodded,

“Yes, that’s what it is on the roster at least.” Roman stated, adding a quick, “We have math together,” At Logan’s confused look.

Virgil’s eyes flicked over to where Mr. Schne was hovering over the box of wet dough, fixing a small glare towards Fraus and his buddy. Virgil let his head fall down, sliding slowly to curl up on the floor.

A hand started to lightly card through his hair, making his eyes drag themselves open to see Patton’s looking down at him with a soft smile.

His chest clenched and he suddenly wanted to cry again. He let himself press into the hand for the barest of seconds before he pulled back.

No use getting use to something that wasn’t going to last.

Patton’s face fell, and guilt flooded Virgil’s veins as the other slowly pulled away with a slight nod.

 _‘It’s not you’_  Virgil screamed in his head,  _‘it could never be you, It’s me, you’re perfect.’_

Logan explained it this time, all clinical words and eloquent observation as Roman’s face turned from confused to betrayed. His eyebrows pulled together mouth slightly open as he stared at Fraus.

“How- How could you!” Roman said advancing forward, and Mrs. Graves placed a hand on Roman’s chest.

“This entire situation seems to be cut and dry, Fraus you and your friend will have to be suspended, if not expelled. I will not have this in my school.” Virgil didn’t get to see Frauses face as a body obscured his view.

Roman knelt in front of him placing a hand over his heart while looking into Virgil’s eyes. His eyes widened as Roman took his hand and brought it up to his lips.

“Y-you might not want- I- I’m sick,” Roman didn’t listen to him, kissing his hand anyway. Virgil blushed.

“You are truly my hero tonight, my dark knight.” Roman said and Virgil snickered at the sentiment, sitting up some so that he was at least eye level with the other.

“Wh-whatever you say Princey.” Virgil said, and Roman smiled at him,

“Princey- I think I like that nickname.” Virgil opened his mouth to respond but Mrs. Graves stepped in eyes locking with Virgil’s as she spoke.

“You are to go home immediately Virgil. I will not have my students suffering an illness while at school, get your mother to call you in next time okay.” Mrs. Graves said, and Virgil pressed his lips together before slowly nodding. “Do you need to call anyone to come and get you?” she asked and Virgil shook his head.

Who was there to get him?

**Scribbles**

As Virgil walked home, his feet dragged. He might have vomited in more alleyways than he ever thought he would be able to in his life, but he was finally almost to his street corner.

The sound of footsteps pounded behind him, the bottom of Virgil’s shoe scuffed on the cement as he twisted, the breath suddenly draining from his chest.

“I told you that you would pay,” Ricky said, his eyes locking with Virgil’s as three other guys from his Basketball team walked up from behind him.

Virgil tensed, he’s seen that kind of anger before.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman’s face was stone. His eyes magma as he barreled through the hallway. Student’s glanced at him, eyes widening, whispering, diving out of his way as he steamrolled past them. He didn’t slow down, shoulders set as he walked with purpose.

Virgil’s lungs wouldn’t inflate, his breath stuck as he watched Ricky closely.

It was a fight.

These things,  _this_ , always ended in a fight, a _beating_ , nothing less.

But nothing more either.

Nothing more usually.

Ricky’s eyes were dark, his teammates kept stealing glances at him, shifting.

‘This was wrong,’ Virgil’s mind cried at him.

This was different.

Virgil’s eyes scanned over Ricky’s hunched form. Ricky sneered.

“Looks like this won’t be much of a fight.” Ricky said, his voice low and level in a way that made Virgil’s heart rate speed up.

He was right, of course. Virgil was hunching against the wall of a building, his hair tousled and brow sweaty from fever. His pale skin gave a sickly glow with the street lights.

Virgil’s lips were pressed together so hard they were shaking, his mind running through possibilities.

He needed to run.

He didn’t know what to do he didn’t-,

The blunt force of a fist hit Virgil’s stomach, pulling away as he pitched forward. His abdomen throbbed and he was suddenly vomiting again. The acidic smell causing one of the other boys to flinch.

Virgil groaned, his stomach aching. Ricky lifted his foot, stomping down in the center of his back sending his face smashing into the ground and his own sickness.

“Ricky!” One of the other boys yelled, “c’mon man, the guys sick!”

Ricky snapped his head back eyes filled with fury, “huh!? What was that Fred! I didn’t know you liked soulless assholes!?” Ricky said and Fred came into view for a millisecond before he stepped back shaking his head.

Virgil pulled his face off the gravel, his already stinging hands pressing against the rocks there, but before he could attempt to stand Ricky was pulling him up by the hood. He threw him back down on his butt. Virgil hissed as the motion crashed his elbows against the gravel.

“Hold him.” Ricky stated and nobody moved.

“HOLD HIM!” The yell was an order, his voice steele and one of the other two guys ran forward grabbing Virgil’s wrists.

Virgil’s head was spinning, his stomach rolling in two different kinds of pain. He looked up to make eye contact with the person holding his wrists before slowly closing his eyes.

“Holy-,” The hands pulled away like they had been burned and Virgil’s eyes snapped open again.

Red.

And blue.

The red and blue of pen marks scrawled almost all the way down his forearm. Two colors pened in different handwriting than Virgil’s own. The colours were loud against his pale flesh, his sleeve knocked almost down to his elbow.

“W-wha- two!?” The boy backed off looking at Virgil like he was the threat. He, who was covered in sick with bruises surely forming on his abdomen.

And just when the last ones had healed too.

“Three.” Virgil croaked out, “I have three.”

Fred’s face paled in horror and Ricky growled.

“What are you guys idiots! He must have wrote that himself!” Virgil shrugged, his body sorely protesting the motion and he let himself fall to the wayside, his body moving to slowly curl up on his side.

Ricky’s eyes were wild, his protests sounding more like an argument he was trying to convince himself of rather than any kind of statement.

Something duly registered in the back of Vigils mind. Silently clicking together pieces of a puzzle he didn’t know he was trying to solve.

Benny’s words echoed in the back of his mind, as he turned over the past ten years on its head.

Ricky who grew up with a set of ‘apple-pie’, monophobic parents. Ricky who knew what a soulless was before they were old enough to even know the term for it. Ricky who knew there were people without soulmates before any of their other peers in first grade.

Ricky who never had any writing on his arms.

“Ricky, you have to be kidding me!” Fred yelled, grabbing the collar of Ricky’s shirt, “LOOK AT HIM!” Fred whipped him around, gesturing to Virgil.

Virgil whose face had scratches and scrapes from the gravel. Virgil whose elbows were bleeding, soaking through the hoodie. Virgil whose body was shaking in the cold air, the adrenaline making him freeze to the spot.

Virgil whose wrists were coated in writing and doodles.

Ricky pulled away, “What Fred? You think I’m going to take your C student knowledge for anything!” Ricky yelled, pushing Fred off him, “-You’re so fucking worried!,” Ricky pulled a sharpie out of his pocket and Virgil felt his body go cold. His mind clouded and his ears filled with static.

“Hold him- fucking HOLD HIM.” All three of the others stood there, eyes glanding around frantically and Ricky growled. “FINE! I’ll do it myself!”

Suddenly Ricky was on top of him, pinning his hands up with his right hand his left holding the sharpie.

Virgil thrashed.

His chest heaved as he let out wild kicks and shifted his arms. Not caring about the large scrapes that were forming on his wrists as Ricky put all his pressure in trying to hold him down.

The pen cap was in Ricky’s mouth the

Tip coming towards Virgil’s face and Virgil screamed, throwing his head back and forth, his eyes screwed tightly shut.

“RICKY!”

Ricky wrote on Virgil’s forehead. Flattening the tip with the pressure he used, the ink spilling down Virgil’s face as he did so.

Then, the crushing force of Ricky’s body on his was pulled away. The air was back, the sweltering heat pulled away to leave him with the forgiving coldness.

Virgil risked cracking an eye open, seeing Fred with his arms hooked underneath Ricky’s armpits holding him back. The sharpie forgotten on the ground.

“Get- out of here.” Fred grunted, narrowly missing getting hit in the face by Ricky as the other struggled in his grip.

Virgil didn’t move, his hand shaking as he pressed fingers into his forehead, pulling them away to see the ink coming off on his fingers with droplets of sweat.

“GO!”

Virgil was on his feet, his body dangerously lurching, he doubled over, throwing up once more. His throat convulsing as he dry heaved.

He stumbled bracing himself on the brick wall before he was running. His eyes burning as each step drained him. His mind ringing, body vibrating with pain.

He ran, he ran until he made it to his doorway, scrapes stinging and hoodie covered in vomit. He body nearly ran into the doorframe of his apartment as he shakily unlocked and pulled the door open, ripping his soiled hoodie over his head as soon as his feet his the kitchen tile and throwing it on the floor.

His legs shook, as he tried to run up the stairs, one leg gave out, hitting the floor as his muscles forced him to kneel.

He cried.

Tears streaking through the ink as he pulled his body up again turing on the bathroom sink and frantically splashing his face with water.

He pulled the cover off the mirror, eyes locking with the letters and immediately wishing he could unread the word as it caved into his chest cavity, lacerating his heart and bending his hope as far as it could.

‘Unwanted’

It was spelled out in thick blocky letters, the streams of ink streaking lines down his face.

His hands shook, his body basically vibrating as his breath stopped in his chest. He swallowed roughly trying to  _breathe_.

He rubbed, his hands roughly scratching at his face, trying to get even a little of the permanent marker off.

He sobbed. His breath finally coming back in a single sharp inhale as he wailed.

Ten years and he wasn’t even the one who got to write something.

**Scribbles**

Roman’s face was stone. His eyes magma as he barreled through the hallway.

Student’s glanced at him, eyes widening, whispering, diving out of his way as he steamrolled past them. He didn’t slow down, shoulders set as he walked with purpose.

His eyes only softened when they landed on where Logan and Patton were standing, Patton crying in Logan’s arms, Logan’s face pinched.

“Who did it?” Roman growled, “Was it Fraus? I- will kill-,”

“What?” Patton said, voice high and shaky as he turned to Roman. “It- you mean Fraus didn’t do it to you?”

Roman paused, mouth slack before he turned to Logan, “wait- did- was it you?”

“No, I did not write… it- on my forehead nor did anyone else write that on me. I already tried using hand sanitizer to remove the marks this morning. It was not written on my end.”

Roman sighed relief flooding his chest. His hands reached out pinning Patton’s arms to his sides before pulling him into a hug. He tucked Patton’s head under his chin shakily inhaling. One of his hands reached out to grip the upper part of Logan’s arm, giving the other a meaningful look.

“I’m glad you’re both okay.” He said. His shoulders fell eyes watering until a tear escaped. Patton smiled, pulling away and gently wiping the tears off his face.

Patton’s eyes barely glanced up, but suddenly he was frowning again, the black words on Roman’s forehead making his chest ache.

“Guys.” He whispered quietly, “if it… wasn’t any of us. Who- who was it?” Roman clutched at Patton as they both turned to Logan.

Logan pushed his glasses further up his nose. His eyes lowered, carefully flicking in deep thought.

“We- are…missing something- someone.” Logan said, and Patton nodded Roman’s eyes looking to the floor.

“I- never wanted to say anything.” Patton said and Logan nodded.

Roman sighed, “why- If we have another soulmate, why did they never… write anything. We met up in middle-school. Why wouldn’t they…”

Logan shrugged, and Patton pulled Roman’s chin down so he could look into Roman’s eyes.

“I guess we’ll just have to ask them when we meet them.” Patton said, a light overtone trying its best to overshadow the shaky sound of his voice.

Logan’s lips pressed together before he sighed. “I- i doubt…” he trailed off. Roman and Patton looking at him softly as he collected his thoughts. “I don’t think that,” he started, carefully making eye contact with the others. “-whoever they are, are going to be too comfortable with the idea of revealing themselves.”

Patton frowned his eyebrows shooting to his hairline, “why? Why wouldn’t someone want to be- want to be with… with their soulmates.”

Logan shook his head, shrugging helplessly as he looked at the others, “I don’t know, however we do know that it seems like the only time we have ever heard something from their end until now, and it looks as if it wasn’t even them who wrote it.”

Patton’s eyes widened, “They- who would hurt-,,” Patton stuttered, “I want to hug them!” Patton finally got out, his eyes watering all over again.

Roman paused his mouth opening and closing before he let out a frustrated sigh, “I don’t understand,” he said slowly, “I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t contact their soulmate- but I don’t care about that right now.” Roman pulled Patton back into his chest as the other continued to cry, “Right now we need to focus on meeting them, and then we can figure out everything else.”

Logan nodded, “what did you have in mind?”

**Scribbles**

Virgil came too slowly, breathing, eyes scanning the ceiling as he laid on the tiles of the bathroom flood.

He felt empty.

He barely regestgestard the fact that it was monday, and that for all intents and purposes he was late for school.

That is he would be late if he had any mind to attempt to go to school.

He hauled his body up, legs shaking as his stomach clenched, the nausea building again. He moved to the sink, running the water. The guilt built up in his chest as he saw the black ink from the corner of his eye.

He forced them to walk around at school all day with this on their foreheads, that is if they went to school after seeing that this was on their heads, and Virgil knew they did.

Logan too obsessed with his studies, Patton with too many commitments and Roman with too much pride.

Virgil’s eyes looked up only to freeze there. His breath catching in his throat. He didn’t have the energy to react past that, his emotions drained, his body sore.

His eyes scanned over the writing. Red ink kissing his cheekbone with the word ‘adored’.

He scanned over it again and again, until he let his eyes fall to a list going down his arm in Logan’s writing. ‘Sharpie comes off with hand sanitizer, sunscreen, rubbing alcohol, baby oil-.’

It wasn’t until he looked to his other arm that it all seemed to catch up with him.

The drawings of clouds and sunlight mirroring pictures he cherished for so long.

He felt himself let out a choked sob, bringing his arm up to his chest to cradle the images. He slid down to the floor. Rocking.

He held onto his own skin, as if he could hold onto the drawings themselves, the writing and the warmth.

His stomach interrupted his breakdown, making him lunge forward, bending over the toilet as he heaved, bile rushing up his throat.

It wasn’t like he had anything other than bile left to throw up.

He sighed as the lurching subsided, his body pressing into the dirty bathroom tiles.

His eyes glanced over Logans list.

There might be some sunscreen in the cabinet just beneath the sink in here…

**Scribbles**

Logan smiled eyes glancing up at the bathroom mirror as he washed his hands. The sharpie was slowly being rubbed away, getting lighter with each smear as whoever was on the other end worked one of the substances that was on Logan’s list onto his skin.

The first wounds to be healed he supposed.

The first of many, possibly, if Logan’s own baseless extrapolations end up holding true.

Logan shook his hands into the sink basin, letting water droplets fall. He leaned forward staring into the mirror, letting flow the weird thoughts and feelings that the letters of the sloppy black marker brought.

Logan didn’t know much when it came to emotion, his own and others. That, historically, was Patton’s specialty, and as soon as the other stops reeling with so much guilt for ‘not realizing’ he’ll probably be a better source of knowledge on how to go about this.

Logan frowned wishing, not for the first time, that he wasn’t so useless in these kind of things.

He could explain quantum theory to a second grader, he could map out amino acid structures and do calculus quicker than an adult can do multiplication. He could give Roman tips on body language in acting, help Patton with picking dirt for his plants with the perfect ph balance, but when Roman doesn’t get a part, when Patton is upset.

What can he do?

What can he do other than stand there. What can he do other than sit and watch.

Because when emotional things happen suddenly he’s frozen.

Logan tore the paper towels he needed with a little more gusto than usual, giving one last glance over to see the last of the marker fade. He pulled his head to the side a little, looking at Roman’s little note on their cheeks.

Logan might not understand emotions very well, he might not be able to help where it counts in a relationship, but he does understand enough about emotions to know that his soulmate is in pain.

He bent down to his backpack that was just under the sink. He pulled up a blue pen from one of the pockets uncapping it. He leaned forward to better look at what he was doing in the mirror, carefully putting his own word right underneath Roman’s.

**Scribbles**

Virgil’s forehead was clear, the black ink finally pulled away from his skin.

He closed the sunscreen bottle, bending down. He sighed as the movement made his sore limbs cry out, the scrapes from the night before finally demanding attention as they made their uncomfortable throbbing known. He propped the sunscreen back underneath the cabinet, pulling his hand back, his back protesting as he bent upward.

His eyes caught a blue smear of colour out of the corner of his eye, and his eye flicked to meet it.

His heart sung, at the words. His mide sending too many emotions to manage as butterflies swirled in his body.

‘Adored’

‘Worthwhile’

Virgil pulled forward, bracing himself on the counter.

They didn’t know that, they didn’t know  _him_.

They didn’t know every horrible inch of every day. They didn’t know what they were consigning themselves too.

Virgil exhaled, head tilted back as his eyes scanned the ceiling. He pulled his stinging, rope burned, gravel scraped hands away from the counter, moving his arms up to inspect the scrapes dragged down his elbows and wrists. The ones on his face would heal without any attention.

He sighed, looking at the bathtub beside him, mind calculating how much a bath would be before he froze in horror. His mind backpedaled thinking back on when his next shift is at work.

Wednesday. The information rang in his head.

His muscles fell, body aching at the tenseness. Virgil grumbled at the feeling.

He ran the sink, sticking his elbows under the tap, hissing at the sting.

They ached, burning as he rubbed the dirt off them and into the water. His palms stinging under the water. He stretched the tight skin out, turning the tap off as soon as he could.

He shook the water droplets off his arms, body slumping as he remembered that he needed to grab his vomit covered hoodie from downstairs.

He pulled his body up, forcing his legs to straighten and carry his weight, removing the pressure from his arms as his hand tentatively opened the bathroom door.

Virgil stumbled downstairs. His face scrunching up at the smell when he got down there.

He saw the small black pile of fabric, picking it up and carrying it pinched between two fingers, holding it out as far away from himself as he could. He threw his hoodie in the washer, tilting his body to let his head lean against the wall near the machines.

His headache was coming back full throttle. He dragged his arm up, bending his elbow inward, his scrapes burning as he placed his cold and clammy hand against his forehead.

The heat there made him groan and he felt a familiar fear rise in his heart.

Ricky found where he lived, or at least a street near where he lived. An area close to himself, close enough to make anywhere unsafe.

As the helpless feeling of a life out of control, of danger that could chose to hurt him, to bend his heart and his will back as far as it can, filled his chest, he glanced at the machine. Forty-five minutes on the timer.

He dragged himself away from the laundry room, pulling his body up the stairs, leaning against the bannenester as he went. He thought of C.C. as he finally collapsed on his bed, wondering what it might have been like if Ricky had found Black Burns and not him. His mind ran with this thought for the moment, not realizing when his eyes slowly closed.

**Scribbles**

Patton pulled his backpack off the floor as the bell rang, the other kids walking out of the room. He turned a few markers over in his hand, eyes glancing down to the doodles on his arms.

Four years and he  _knew_ , he  _realized_  something was off and he didn’t do  _anything_  about it. His mind turned over every day they were laying together, every moment where it felt like there was just a little too much space, a little too much food, or a little too much empty conversation.

He sighed hand going up to rub his forehead.

They say that when you meet your soulmate(s) everything just  _flows_. He wonders how they missed part of their ‘flow’.

He walked out into the hallway, Logan standing outside his class, giving him a small smile.

Patton smiled back, pulling his lips up in an attempt at normality.

“They got it off?” Patton asked, gesturing, noting the missing ink on Logan’s forehead.

“It appears so,” Logan said and Patton smiled eyes crinkling at the blue smudge on his cheek.

“You left him a note?” Patton asked and Logan cleared his throat, nodding.

“Um- yes.” Patton laughed, the darkness in his stomach dispersing some, the feeling weighing off his shoulders as he watched Logan straighten his tie.

“Let’s go find Roman and get out of here huh?,” he said locking his arms with Logan.

He could spend the entirety of his life wondering how he didn’t notice something, or he could do all he could to enjoy his time with his soulmates.

All three of his soulmates, hopefully.

Logan and Patton walked down the hall, students parting to let them pass, as they made their way to Roman’s english class.

**Scribbles**

Roman sighed as he walked out of his class, his fingers thrumming the back of his pen against the side of his hand. He pulled the other strap of his backpack over his shoulder.

He was glad Patton and Logan were okay. This morning he was so certain-, though, he was unsure as to whether certainty or uncertainty was better. Having to spend time constantly wondering if some missing fourth piece to their family was doing  _okay_ , if nothing else.

He turned right, legs automatically moving into the routine as his mind re-lived his morning.

His moms doing their own morning routine while he was busy staring in horror at his own reflection in the bathroom.

Roman didn’t do ‘okay’ he did brilliant, he did amazing, or magnificent, nothing less. He wanted the same for his soulmates. He’d strive for that ideal with his dying breath, but, if it wasn’t brilliant, if somehow he couldn’t manage amazing or magnificent he at least wanted the comfort of knowing that he was there enough to protect them.

“Roman,” Roman looked up, eyes locking with Logan’s, his face beaming at the small scrawl of writing the other had on his cheek. Patton smiled and he put emphasis on giving the other a small smile back.

He slung his arms around the other two, pulling them as close as he could. Pulling all of them together as tightly as he could hold them.

“Hey, let’s go get dinner huh?” He said, all three of them putting personal anguish on the backburner.

**Scribbles**

Virgil opened his eyes, his mind and face throbbing as he lifted his muddled head off the pillow and turned it just enough for his sticky eyelids to crack open and see the clock.

6:37 am

He groaned, pulling his body up.

He couldn’t have two unexcused absent days, it would get him a detention that he really couldn’t afford to have.

He could pretend to every college and employer that it was his old school that was troubled and not him, but he can’t keep that up that facade and still be getting detentions at Sanders High.

He yanked his shivering body from the tangle of blankets around his waist, dragging his backpack out from under its place under his desk.

Slinging it on, he pulled his body to the bathroom, eyes looking in the mirror. His face pulled down as he saw that a large bruise had formed just under the large scrape on his left cheek.

His hands shook as he reached his fingers up to touch the side of his face grimacing at the sting, the movement pulling his cheek in a way that made it burn.

He groaned, letting his hand fall to his side. His nausea was down at least, having faded to a dull ache in his stomach.

He let his arm wrap around his center, the pull at the scrapes down his elbow made the scabs break and he hissed.

He pulled himself from the bathroom, his body wracked with fatigue as he moved down the steps, body draining each ounce of energy he used up just getting to the laundry room.

He bent down to remove his wet hoodie from the washing machine, pulling it on. He did his best to ignore the shivers that started as the wet fabric fell against his sore and tight skin.

He tried to flex his hands, his palms stinging. He sighed pulling his hood over his head as the shivers made his already sore muscles pull.

The cold air hit his body as soon as he walked out of the door. He started shaking as he huddled into himself.

The bus pulled up, probably only a minute or two later but Virgil couldn’t tell the difference between a minute and a day at the moment. The driver gave him a look over his glasses. Carefully watching Virgil as he shakily climbed the steps into the bus.

“Are you okay?” He asked and Virgil gave a nod,

“Just- cold.” He said. The bus driver looked unsure but nodded, moving his head to look forward and Virgil moved to the back to sit down.

He huddled next to the window, and as the bus moved forward his stomach lurched uncomfortably, The nausea hitting him tenfold as the bus bumped along on the road, each turn and swirve making his stomach spin. The smell of petrol and metal making the taste of bile prominent on his tongue.

He nearly threw himself off the bus when it stopped at the school, the cold air making him sigh as his body started to uncomfortably shiver, the coldness of the wet hoodie pressing against his arms.

He ducked his head further into his hoodie as he entered the building, his mind reeling as he pressed up against a wall in order to stabilize himself.

The warmer air of the school did nothing for his spasming muscles as he braced himself.

The world spun for a moment, making Virgil panic as he promptly fell to one knee, letting his mind teeter on the side of pitching him forward.

“Are you okay?” A teacher asked, crouching down and Virgil’s hands stretched out, pulling at his laces on one shoe, tightening the worn, frayed strings.

“Just- tying my shoe.” He said, struggling as he stood up. The teacher rose an eyebrow, standing with him before nodding and moving forward.

Always moving forward, believing him is easier than actually having a problem he supposed.

Virgil dragged his body to his Math class, body slumping as he entered the door right as the bell rang.

He moved to his seat, his shoulders slouching, body crying out as his shaking muscles were allowed to give out.

His body was shivering, though it was a lot less hard than it was when he was outside, but enough to irritate his turning stomach, and tight flesh.

Virgil’s eyes pulled upward, catching Roman’s concerned look, his breath hitched eyes averting themselves immediately as he ducked his head.

He didn’t know, he didn’t know it was Virgil. He didn’t even know who Virgil was not really.

“-Virgil,” the teacher called his name,

“Here,” he croaked, and the teacher looked up, her eyebrows raising to her hairline, hand hovering over the clipboard before marking him present.

He let his body pitch forward, leaning his burning forehead against the coolness of the desk as his body shivered. The slight shaking making him pull his hands up to grip his upper arms, His palms burning as he clutched at the fabric of his hoodie. He gritted his teeth with the brief intense moment of pain before it started to ebb off and his breathing evened.

His mind faded in and out of the class, his eyes slipping closed every once and awhile as he stayed in the inbetween area of sleep and rest.

When the bell rang his eyelids cracked open, his hand moving to tug his hood further down before he pulled his body up, gripping the straps of his backpack.

“What are you doing here?” Virgil’s head snapped up, to see Roman. His lips pinched together as he carefully looked Virgil up and down.

“W-what?” Virgil stuttered out, his brain halted.

“You’re still sick, really sick by the looks of it.” Roman said and Virgil hunched further into his hoodie.

“I’m better.” He stated, and Roman shook his head, eyes suddenly going soft in a way that made Virgil’s heartache, made it ache for warmth and the softness of the others hand on his. “No- no you’re not.”

As if to prove his point Virgil’s stomach clenched. His eyes widened as he ran, pitching forward and barely making it to the trashcan in time to heave up stomach acid.

“Virgil!?” The teacher cried out in shock. Virgil tensed pulling his body up, stumbling as his legs straightened.

He turned, eyes wide as he rushed out of the room. He couldn’t be sent home, there was no one there. They couldn’t call anyone to come get him. There would be questions. He can’t be in the system, he can’t get lost.

If he can’t be with his soulmates he wanted to at least be around them.

His stomach clenched, and he stumbled, knee giving out as he fell to the floor in the hallway.

The footsteps echoing behind him had him pulling himself back up, legs shaking like jelly as he burst into the bathroom, running to a stall and collapsing there.

His stomach twisted and he dry heaved in the toilet, bile rising in the back of his throat.

A hand brushed against his back, his body tensed as he jumped making him double over again as his stomach tried to empty.

He was barely able to look up, his eyes lifting up enough to register Roman’s form as he collapsed back into the toilet bowl.

Roman’s hand stayed there, rubbing in slow circles before pulling away. Leaving the oppressive cold at Virgil’s back.

The silence in the room told Virgil he was alone.

Something inside him cried, only to be quickly forgotten as he was dry heaving again.

His back arching as his throat ached, his body still wracked with shivers.

“Virgil, honey-,” Virgil’s head pulled up, groaning as he saw Patton just behind him, halfway in the same stall as him.

“I’m going to go inform Mrs. Graves that Virgil came to school and we are going to be taking him back to his home.” Logan’s voice echoed outside the stall before the bathroom door shut.

Virgil fell forward, tears streaming down his face.

“It’ll be okay, you’re okay.” Roman was suddenly there, whispering, and Patton’s hands reached to unzip his hoodie.

He groaned, mouth not quite forming words as he tried to pull away.

“Your clothes are wet.” He said, “we need to get you out of-,”

“Nooo,” he managed to whine out, pulling away, body slumping from Patton’s hands.

“Mrs. Graves said-,” Logan paused, the stall doorway suddenly full, Logan looked at Roman for a split second, exchanging some sort of conversation as Logan kneeled down. Roman’s hands gently pulled Virgil up, Virgil’s eyes screwing shut as he was manipulated. Patton’s hands moved to pull the hoodie off, Logan’s hands helping guide Virgil’s arms out of the clothing, the hood falling back as they went.

Patton gasped, Virgil tensing at the sound, Roman hissed as the bruise on his face was revealed.

Then the room went silent.

Virgil shifted, his body trying to move from it’s place half-lying on Roman’s lap, only for Roman’s arms to tighten around him.

A thumb gently brushed over his cheek bone, his heart thudded as he realized his mistake.

The words that are printed there burned into the back of his mind, sending tears to his eyes as he hiccuped.

“Virgil?” Patton whispered, his voice shaky, and Virgil flinched. “Kiddo- can you… can you look at me please?”

Virgil only closed his eyes tighter, the stinging in his skin ignored as his eyes watered, slowly streaming down his face.

A hand came to lightly cup his uninjured cheek, a thumb brushing at the small stream of tears. His face relaxed eyes closing more gently as he leaned into the touch. Virgil sighed at the feeling of warmth. Slowly, the hand fell away, leaving a trail of want behind.

Roman stood, lifting Virgil up with him, Virgil’s arms automatically reached up, wrapping around the others neck.

He fell forward letting Roman press him against his chest. The warmth made him relax, his body going slack as everything peacefully went dark.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of the day before crashing into him. The moments he had lived a hazy mess. His mind filled with familiar anguish, familiar thoughts. He shouldn’t be here, he’ll ruin everything.

Virgil’s eyes cracked open, his body was floating, warmth surrounding him.

There was white, plush and soft, and he idly wondered if he was dead as he thumbed at the white infront of him. His fingers slipping on fabric as he pressed a handprint into a down blanket.

He let his eyes slip open a little farther and he duly realized he was on a bed. A really nice bed.

The comforter puffed up around him like a sea of clouds.

His mind tried to fade back into the fog, the softness and warmth around him cradling him. He was about to sink back into the nothingness he was in before, only for his common sense to come crashing into him.

He didn’t know where he was.

He tried to sit up leaning to get his body to cooperate. He was too sore, too tired. He flopped back down. The few centimeters he managed to pull himself not even shifting the blankets.

He rolled from his side onto his back, looking at the ceiling.

The walls were white, patterns of gold and red embellishing the area. The bed was big, a queen sized spread that was definitely better than the rock solid, spring loaded one he had.

His stomach was settled, the soreness in his throat the only reminder of his bout of illness. His headache was barely a throb, but his body was still so tired.

He lazily pulled his arm out from under the blankets, the white, clean bandages wrapping around his elbow and wrist keeping him from agitating the scabs there.

“You’re awake,” a voice said, Virgil’s eyes moved to the door, where Patton was standing, a smile on his face, his eyes wide with relief.

Patton was holding a tray with a bowl and a glass of water. A golden lump of buttered bread was propped up behind it.

Virgil’s eyes followed as Patton walked forward setting the tray down on the nightstand before moving to sit on the area of bed next to Virgil.

Patton reached out, cupping his cheek and Virgil leaned into the contact, his cheek twitching a little at the contact, his mind screaming at him.

The events of the day before crashing into him. The moments he had lived a hazy mess. His mind filled with familiar anguish, familiar thoughts.

He shouldn’t be here, he’ll ruin everything.

 _‘Fate doesn’t make mistakes’_  he firmly told himself. His eyes fluttering closed as Patton reached up to gently run his other hand through Virgil’s hair.

Patton moved the hand away from his cheek.

“We have just finish-,” Logan froze in the doorway, Roman behind him.

“Oh thank god.” Roman said, his hand rubbing his forehead. His other hand clutching the doorway as he slumped, and Virgil felt something in his stomach twist.

He was ruining everything, he was-

_‘Fate doesn’t make mistakes’_

But what if-

_‘No- no it doesn’t it doesn’t make-,’_

Logan cleared his throat and Patton smiled.

“The sleepyheads awake.” Patton said gently.

Roman was there, gently brushing against Virgil as he climbed on the bed to lay back against the small pile of pillows next to him. Virgil watched him carefully, body desperate to lean into the contact.

“We need to change your bandages,” Logan stated, shifting a little, “also I would like to check your torso,” he listed off, absentmindedly counting each thing on his fingers, “and get you cleaned up, we would have done it earlier but we didn’t want to do any sort of undressing without your conscious consent unless it was life or death.”

Roman reached down, hooking his hands under Virgil’s armpits as he pulled Virgil up from having to peer up at them over the fluff of blankets. Roman settled him down, leaning him against the same soft pile Roman himself was sat up against.

Virgil let himself fall a little to the wayside, leaning against the other. His eyes flickered up, probing Roman’s face for the disgust or rage that he never found.

Roman pulled him a little closer, making Virgil’s eyes start to water,

“Emh- yeah- yes i mean.” He said and Logan smiled.

“How comfortable would you be with Roman undressing you?” Patton asked his eyes meeting Virgil’s, both of them shining, warm pools of sincerity.

“I-,” Virgil choked on his words, his voice cracking, “sure- thank you,”

“Always.” Roman said, making Virgil look to him as he gently shifted the others body into his arms.

“How are you feeling today Virgil?” Logan asked as Roman, gently pulled Virgil’s arms, hiking up his shirt a little bit in order to move his limbs out of the sleeves.

“Um- better, I’m not nauseous anymore.” Virgil said, trying to help Roman a little on guiding his wayward limbs, his cheeks hot pink as Romans hands brushed against his bare skin.

“I’d hope so, you’ve been asleep for a day.” Logan stated and Virgil felt a rush of panic at that,

“What- wait what!” Virgil said hysterically and Roman hushed him, pausing his movement to cradle the other to his chest,

“It’s alright,” Patton said, his smile tight as he reached out to brush Virgil’s bangs from his forehead.

Virgil’s heart clenched, they’re doing so much for him and his dark cloud self can’t even appreciate it. He swallowed hard and Patton cupped his face in his hands, pulling his eyes up.

“You slept all the way through Tuesday,” Patton began, “we were scared we would have to take you to the hospital, your fever got worse before it got better but it broke sometime around midnight last night.”

Logan nodded pushing his glasses up his face,  “I am very glad that one of Roman’s mothers is a surgeon, otherwise I don’t think we would have known what to do on our own.”

“This is- Roman’s room?” Virgil found himself asking, mind screaming at him. Out of all the things he needed to be worrying about, that was what he decided to focus on.

“Yes,” Roman stated, “would you mind if i continued-,” Virgil nodded his head and Roman pulled him up a little more.

“What time is it?” He asked and Logan pulled out his phone, turning it on for the brief three seconds he needed to tell the time.

“Around noon,”

Virgil felt himself go pale, his eyes widening.

He wasn’t at school, he missed another day of school, unexcused.

He got a detention.

Roman got Virgil’s other hand through the sleeve, pulling the shirt from its place loosely hanging from around his neck.

As soon as the garment was pulled off, Patton gasped, hands flying to his mouth. Logan’s lips thinned out his face suddenly stern.

Virgil felt Roman clutch onto him, pulling him back into his chest.

Virgil looked down, grimacing.

He was thin, really thin. The imprints of his ribs could be barely seen through the skin on his chest, and he was bruised.

Too many days of meals consisting of glasses of water. Too much prioritizing debt over buying food.

“We- we’re getting this in you- right- right now.” Patton said, pulling the tray of food back to him, kneeling on the bed and moving to Virgil.

“I’m going to run the bath,” Roman said, his face blank as he pulled away. Virgil immediately missed the warmth of the other. His stomach falling as the other pulled away. Logan swiftly left, the only sign that he he had even moved being the sound of a closing door.

“I’m sorry.” Virgil said. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he needed to say it.

His heart sore. His mind weighty with how disgusting he must look.

Patton’s face fell, his hand reaching out to cup Virgil’s face again.

Virgil watched in horror as a tear ran down Patton’s cheek, a soft sniffle making his heart fall.

It’s his fault.

He made Patton cry, how could he, he _is_  ruining everything.

Before he could react, before he could pull himself from the sheets, eject himself from the warmth and pull himself from their lives.

Patton pulled him in for a hug, tucking Virgil’s head beneath his chin.

“Oh sweetie you have nothing to be sorry for.” He said and Virgil’s mind screamed at him.

He had everything to be sorry for.

“I’m just so upset that you were so- so badly taken care of I-,” Patton squeezed him a little, Virgil’s mind rapidly flipping the words over in his head as Patton pulled away.

“Now- um,” Patton sniffed, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Let’s get this soup in you huh?” Patton picked up the spoon, dipping it in the liquid before holding it out in front of Virgil’s face.

Virgil hesitated, of course Patton had to feed him, Virgil had proven to be completely useless at everything else, why wouldn’t he even need their help to do something so basic.

Virgil had to say the worst part had to be that he did need the help. The bandages around his elbows would make it impossible to bend his arm enough to get the spoon to his mouth.

He opened his mouth, and Patton spooned him the food.

Virgil clenched his fists, thinking about all the things the other three should be doing right now. The time they are wasting because Virgil couldn’t handle himself for one measly illness.

The soup was nice though, the broth warm enough to warm his center without burning his tongue. It pooled in his stomach, being the first thing to fall in the empty well in quite a while.

Patton broke off a few pieces of the buttered bread holding them to Virgil’s mouth.

**Scribbles**

Roman was angry.

His hands turning the taps for the bathtub a little more violently than necessary.

He had questions. He didn’t have enough information and he knew that. Logan was better at this than him. Not acting before he had all the information. Roman need to be calm though. He had to be calm enough and even though every part of him cried out for him to go find what was hurting Virgil and kill it, he knew he had to focus on what really mattered.

Virgil.

By the time the tub was half-way full he was calm enough to more carefully pour some bubble bath into the mix.

Roman didn’t do things halfway.

He walked back into his room, Patton apparently having finished feeding Virgil, taking to just holding the other in a hug, rocking them both slightly at the waist, as one of his hands lightly rubbed Virgil’s stomach.

Roman smiled, clearing his throat a little so Patton and Virgil turned to him.

Virgil’s eyes were lidded a little, his jaw lax. His cheeks slowly went pink as he finally registered Roman was there.

“The bath is ready,” Roman said and Patton nodded his head, pulling away, grabbing the tray to take down with him.

Roman’s heart clenched as he watched Virgil’s face fall. He was watching after Patton like the other was leaving forever instead of going down to the living room with Logan.

Not that he blamed Virgil. They had left him alone. They left him alone for four years.

What kind of soulmates did that?

Roman fought a frown, trying his best to keep the smile on his face as walked forward, filling the empty space as he gently pulled a few of the blankets off Virgil.

The other gave a shiver at the loss and Roman could only think about how thin he was.

He gently wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulders, moving the other under the other’s legs.

“Would you mind if i picked you up to take you to the bathroom?” Roman asked and Virgil hesitated, mouth opening and closing, before he looked down,

“I- I um can walk myself.” He said, not sounding too convinced himself.

Roman’s lips thinned, pressing together as he pulled away.

“Alright.” He said hand’s staying in the air as he watched the other shakily stand,

He placed his hand on the others lower back, pulling Virgil closely enough to lean against his side.

Roman, helped him into the bathroom, watching as the other’s eyes widened, his face going slack as he stared, eyes flicking around the room.

“It’s um- big…” he stated and Roman’s brow furrowed. His bathroom was about average in size, not really worth the reaction the other had just given.

Then again Roman didn’t know how Virgil had been living for the past fifteen years.

That fact scared Roman more than anything else ever could.

He settled Virgil down on the toilet seat, and just then Patton entered the bathroom, holding a new set of clothes.

“They’re one of my P.J sets,” Patton said, placing the folded pile on the sink.

Roman looked back at Virgil, they needed to get his pants and underwear off and he wasn’t so sure how willing Virgil would be to receive help in this situation.

“Virgil, we need- we need to get you undressed-,” he started and Virgil’s face turned red, his eyes screwing shut.

“I- just-um… do it.” Virgil said and Roman nodded, his hands pulling Virgil forward, leaning Virgil’s head against his shoulder as he quickly unzipped the others jeans pulling them down along with his underwear and kicking them away.

Roman held Virgil’s arm as the other stepped into the water, both him and Patton evading their eyes until Virgil was covered by the bubbles.

Virgil groaned, as his body hit the water, visibly relaxing under the warmth of the bath. Roman watched, happy that at least now he can make sure Virgil was properly taken care of.

Logan walked in, the sound of the door opening having all of them turning to see him standing in the doorway holding a first aid kit. His eyes looked up briefly before placing the kit besides the clothing.

“Let me take your bandages off.” Logan said walking over to kneel by the tub.

Virgil’s eyes followed him, before he hesitantly reached out and allowed to other to start maneuvering his arms around.

Roman’s eyes lingered, his hands itching. He didn’t really know what Logan was doing, besides the obvious fact that he was changing VIrgil’s bandages. His mama explained how to do it to Logan not him and as he watched Logan move with calculated precision he suddenly felt useless again.

He needed to do something.

“I’m- I’m just- I’m going to go put the rest of the soup away,” Roman said and Patton nodded to him as he left for the kitchen.

**Scribbles**

Patton watched as Logan steadily unwrapped the bandages, revealing the scabs on Virgil’s elbows.

“That looks good enough to leave unwrapped.” Logan said, his voice pleasantly surprised.

Patton watched as Logan threw the soiled bandages in the trashcan near the toilet, Logan’s eyes snapping back and forth for a moment, before he nodded to him, glancing back at Virgil as he unsurely left the room.

Patton smiled as Virgil, cupped some of the bubbles in the bathtub, bringing them up in his palms to lightly squish, his face pulled a little, shaking out his hands and Patton hummed.

“Your hands okay?” He asked kneeling by the tub and Virgil dunked his hands in the tub, letting the residue of the soap wash away so he could see the rough pink burns on his hands,

“Eh, they’ve seen better days.” He croaked, and Patton frowned.

“Here,” Patton began, pulling the shampoo bottle of the end of the tub to him. “I’ll wash your hair so you don’t have to hurt your hands,” Virgil frowned looking down at his hands before looking back up at Patton,

“Ummm okay?” He said and Patton smiled,

“Alrighty, lean back and wet your hair please.” Virgil hesitantly leaned back, pulling himself back up after maybe a millisecond.

Patton frowned, using one of his hands to lightly push at Virgil’s chest.

“Um, a little longer than that kiddo.” He said, and Virgil was blushing again. He dipped back, his eyes looking everywhere but at Patton as he sufficiently wet his hair.

When Virgil pulled up, Patton lightly pushed him to turn around enough so that he had access to the others scalp.

Patton lathered the shampoo onto his hands, gently threading his fingers in Virgil’s hair, the other’s head ducking at the first touch of the feeling. Patton watched the other, lips pinched as he lightly rubbed at the crown of Virgil’s head.

Virgil slowly went lax, letting out a small puff of air. The corner of Patton’s mouth quirked up, his hands gentle as he worked the shampoo into Virgil’s hair, fingers slowly rubbing in small circles.

As the soap was fully lathered into the hair, Patton’s hands moved down, going from moving in small circles on his scalp to gently pressing into his neck. Patton’s hands moved down until he was rubbing Virgil’s shoulders, smiling as the others tension disappeared under his fingers.

Patton moved his hands up to tilt Virgil down again, guiding him down in order to wash the shampoo out of his hair. The other let him, face a lot less distressed this time around as the shampoo diluted.

Patton’s eyes caught on the other’s torso as Virgil leaned back. Patton’s mind going back to the last twenty four hours as he  picked up the conditioner, squirting some into his hand.

They were so concerned about the state of worry that Virgil’s parents might be in when midnight hit and they still had no way of contacting them.

Now Patton only wondered what kind of parents allowed their child to get so- bad, without noticing.

“We were wondering if you wanted to call your parents?” Patton whispered cautiously,

Virgil tensed, his shoulders shifting uppward as he ducked his head.

Patton let that hang in the air as he gently pressed his hands into Virgil’s scalp again, working out the renewed tension from Virgil’s muscles.

The silence stretched on, Patton helping him dip his head back, hand brushing through his hair to help rinse the conditioner out. As he helped the other to sit up Virgil almost immediately braced himself against the tub, trying to pull himself out. Patton frowned as he reached to help Virgil stand wrapping him in a towel as they went.

Virgil was standing, eyes shifting around the room, dripping on the floor for a moment. Patton carefully helped him to sit on the toilet.

Virgil’s control over his limbs seemed to be returning to him as the other barely leaned against Patton as they went.

Patton grabbed the Pajamas, hands gently brushing against Virgil’s as he handed them to the other. Patton’s eyes softened at him as they made eye contact and Virgil’s mouth dropped open, Patton froze. Virgil’s face was helpless, eyes full of fear that Patton just wanted to crush in a hug, Virgil’s mouth kept opening and closing as Patton just smiled at him, waiting.

“I… don’t,” Virgil stated, making Patton frown in confusion.

“Um- you don’t what?” Patton asked hesitantly, voice soft as he watched Virgil grimace his face pulling as he yanked his eyes away from Patton.

“I- I don’t, um, have- or really they aren’t- I don’t have parents.” Virgil stated and Patton’s eyes widened.

“What- what do you mean?” Patton asked, and Virgil’s face fell.

“My-Dad’s- … gone and my Mom’s- she’s in the hospital,”

Patton’s eyes widened in horror for a split second before he covered it with a tight smile. Now was not the time for scaring the other, he was so shaky. So unsure. Patton swallowed letting go of the clothes and pulling his hands away.

“How about you get dressed huh?” Patton said, and Virgil nodded, “Just head down stairs when you’re done,”

Virgil, hunched nodding as he pulled the towel closer around himself, starting to shiver slightly. Patton wanted to cry, he reached out, pulling Virgil in for another hug.

Whether it was to reassure Virgil or himself he wouldn’t be able to tell you.

When Patton left the bathroom, his mind was screaming at him. He sighed, wishing not for the first time that he was as collected as Logan usually was in these situations. As strong as Roman could be.

Logan wouldn’t have freaked out, he would’ve offered a solution.

Patton sighed one more time, hand pulling down his face before he reached it out to trail down the banister as he moved down stairs.

**Scribbles**

Logan’s eyes scanned over the set up Roman had made.

Knowing Patton and Roman, they both wouldn’t want to leave Virgil’s side, he also knew that Roman got easily antsy if left in one spot without something to do, but Virgil was just getting well. They didn’t want to push it with too much activity.

So logically Logan collected every soft object in the house, pushing the two couches in the living room together, cushions facing each other, in front of the tv and throwing all of what he collected in a pile.

Roman had walked out of the kitchen and looked at the pile for a mere six seconds before he had apparently decided to add a more creative flair. Immediately pulling some of the thinner blankets to make a canopy, pinned to the ceiling with a thumbtack and he arranged all the pillows and blankets in ‘the best way’.

Logan’s eyes were pulled away from Roman who was piling pillows together to see Patton walking down the stairs, his face pinched in a way that Logan didn’t like.

“Is Virgil okay?” Roman asked at the same time Logan had said,  “Did he mention his parents?”

And didn’t the fact that, the first thing he asks isn’t to see if his soulmate is okay make him feel horrible.

Patton paused, eyes stuck on the floor for a few more seconds before he was pulling them back up.

“He uh… well, in his words- his dad is gone? and he also said his mom is in the hospital.”

Logan felt something in his chest sink, turning to Roman who’s eyebrows were at his hairline his mouth open slightly,

“You mean-,” Roman began, “he’s been alone for- how- does he even have a home?” Roman’s voice cracked as he asked the question and Patton shrugged.

Just as Logan opened his mouth, Virgil walked down the stairs, his wet hair tousled, pajamas hanging off his frame slightly.

Roman and Patton turned, doing their best to smile at him, Roman moving away from their set up to gently wrap an arm around Virgil’s middle.

“Let’s get you under some blankets okay? We- want to talk to you.” Virgil tensed, slumping in a way that had Roman pulling him to his chest again.

“No, no- this isn’t anything- Virgil we want to make sure you’re okay, alright?”

Virgil nodded into Roman’s chest as he pulled the both of them to the blanket fort. Logan’s face was as neutral as he could make it as he watched Roman absolutely cocoon Virgil in blankets.

Virgil’s weight concerned him. Of course it did, but there was nothing he could do about it than make sure that Patton didn’t feed him too much too quickly because of it.

Patton walked over, Logan watching before slowly moving behind him, taking the others lead. Roman adjusted his P.J’s before climbing in after Virgil, Patton went in next.

Logan ducked inside pushing himself into a corner near the entrance, body tense as he watched the situation unfold.

Patton fussed over Virgil, his hands tucking blankets more firmly around him as he pulled pillows to prop him up some. Virgil’s face was focused, eyes staring after the other, watching each movement with such rapt attention, eyes flickering over his form like if he blinked everything around him would suddenly disappear.

Logan wished it could stay this way. Wished they could stay here forever and never have to worry about or deal with issues.

But they couldn’t do that.

As soon as Patton had made Virgil as comfortable as physically possible, Logan had reached to get the first bit of information he needed.

“Where are you living Virgil?,” Logan asked, and Virgil hunched his shoulders, Roman reaching out to tuck Virgil underneath one of his arms.

“Um- my uh, my apartment.” Virgil said and Logan make confused eye contact with Patton,

“Um, I thought that- your parents-,”

“I- yeah… yes- I um don’t have- i don’t have parents …right now.”

Logan felt something in his chest fall, “You mean- Virgil how are you living in an apartment with no of age adult to manage the finances of such an arrangement.”

Virgil was silent for a moment, eyes flicking between their faces before his face started to go red, tears streaming as his breathing hitched.

“I- I thought that maybe- at first it was so temporary- but everything’s always ‘temporary’ and then it’s forever. And i thought I would just have to cover hospital bills for a while and she’d be back before the rent was due- but- but i don’t- I got a job- I was going to get two but-,”

“Virgil,” Logan stopped him, as Patton pulled him over, wrapping the boy in a hold as Logan continued, “are you saying you’re paying for your rent and your mother’s hospital bills?”

Virgil let out a small high pitched sound, like a wounded animal, and Logan pulled one of his hands up to his forehead.

No self respecting landlord would take money from a teenager. Which meant that if Virgil was paying for rent he had to live somewhere that Logan assumed wasn’t the most ideal place for living.

Then there was the hospital, any hospital wouldn’t except money from a teenager, he’d have to ask more about that- but more importantly to him was how.

How did the hospital, this landlord, how did none of them called the authorities. Why wouldn’t Virgil seek help to get out of his situation.

Why wouldn’t Virgil contact them.

Logan’s head reeled the original question hitting him in the face: Why hadn’t Virgil been with them all these years.

Why wasn’t he leant against them during movie nights or pressed into one of their sides when it was time to eat.

Where was Virgil for the last four years?

Logan kneeled down, pulling himself over to the small pile of bodys. Roman was leaning back, holding Virgil’s body to his chest as Patton wrapped the other in a hug from the front, tipping Virgil’s head against his shoulder.

The other was so unsure, his arms floating just over Patton’s back. His eyes wide over the back of Patton’s shoulders as he hovered them, unsure to whether or not he could place them down.

Logan sat beside them, propping up Virgil’s chin enough to get him to look at him.

“We love you Virgil.” Logan said, stating the word as one of the many facts he possessed. Aiming it and firing at whatever was plaguing the other.

“We. Love you.”

“Always.” Roman said, tightening his hold on the other. “Always.”

Patton pulled away, placing a kiss on the others forehead before suddenly turning, gripping the collar of Logan’s shirt and pulling him into the pile.

Logan yelped, his face suddenly darkening with a deep blush as Patton kissed him on the nose.

Virgil laughed, the snickering breaking through the watery sound of his throat, the tension going with it as all of them joined.

The room suddenly erupted in laughter.

**Scribbles**

Virgil’s sides ached, his eyes were watering as he laughed, the cathartic feeling pooling in his stomach as the last few days melted in the flush of all of their bodys pressed up against his.

They piled around him, circling him in a way that would normally be suffocating.

Roman holding him to his chest, logan with one arm behind Roman’s head the other draped across Virgil’s abdomen. Patton had both an arm and a leg draped over him.

The contact was warm, it was weighty and full and he basked in the kind of human contact that he hadn’t had since he was five.

Roman held him securely and Virgil couldn’t help but feel awful.

He felt awful as each issue came to the forefront of his mind.

He didn’t have time for this. He couldn’t be with them they way they were with each other.

He had a sick mother to visit, debts to pay, a job to get too.

Their faces were so peaceful, his heart ached but he couldn’t bask in warmth.

Not right now at least. Not when there was so much to do.

“I have- I have work.” Virgil said, and he felt the eyes on him, the weight of the words pressing in his skin, making him go cold.

“I have a shift, and then i have to visit my- um- mom- in the- in the hospital, don’t- I mean don’t we all have school I- I can’t-,” Virgil’s breath was heaving now, and the others pulled away.

 _‘No! No- I’m sorry- I’m so so sorry.’_  Virgil flinched away a little as Patton reached his arm out to brushed a thumb against his cheek. Patton frowned letting his hand fall and Virgil felt guilt clench in his stomach.

He just had to ruin everything.

He had so much to do.

He was missing work. He couldn’t miss work he’d lose the apartment or maybe he wouldn’t be able to pay the hospital.

Maybe his mother would die because of him.

His hands shook, as he reached up to his face, feeling the tears there that he didn’t realize had started to fall.

His body was vibrating, the feeling making his limbs go numb.

He jumped feeling an arm circling around his shoulders eyes turning to Logan who was sitting next to him.

“Virgil, can you breathe with me?” Logan asked and Virgil shook his head looking down and Logan tilted his head back up.

“Virgil, you  _need_  to breathe with me, can you look at me please?” Virgil’s eyes looked back up to Logan and they made eye contact, Logan placed Virgil’s hand on his chest taking a deep breath and Virgil slowly fell into the rhythm.

Deep breath, hold, slow exhale.

His lungs slowly became less tight and as soon as he could breathe again, he let himself collapse. Moving to fully lean against Logan’s front.

Roman re-entered the blanket fort, Virgil hadn’t even noticed he left, holding a glass of water. He held it out to Virgil and Virgil took it, drawing a long sip, before handing it back to Roman.

“Now, Virgil I think- I think we need to discuss all of this.” Logan said and Virgil slumped.

They were going to kick him out. Tell him that he’s too much- too damaged.

They don’t want you, they don’t even know you, of course they don’t want you.

Virgil hadn’t realized his breath had sped up again until Patton was there holding him and humming.

“No, no sweetie, it’s nothing bad!”

Virgil opened his mouth, his untrustworthy tongue about to take the reins when a door opened and shut.

There was silence. The clinking of key’s hitting a bowl as an unfamiliar older woman looked up from her place by the front door.

“Oh,- uh- who’s your guy’s new friend?” Virgil looked up, the makeshift door of the tent propped open from when Roman had gotten the glass of water.

His eyes made eye contact with the woman, everything suddenly draining from him as he froze, eyes glancing to the others.

“Oh um- that’s a really long story mom,” Roman said and his mom frowned,

Her eyes looked Virgil up and down as her hand hesitantly went to loosen at the button up collar she was wearing.

What a sight Virgil must be. Half of his face scraped and bruised, his skin pale, his body boney.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” She asked and Virgil felt his mind reeling, back peddling to a time when his own mom had called him sweetheart. Bringing up moments he didn’t want to remember, didn’t want to relive ever again.

He froze, mind caught in so many feelings that it made him go numb. All emotion dissipating from him as he looked at this woman, this mother.

“Yeah.” He said, blank, and the others looked alarmed.

“I have a shift at work. I need to go.” He said and the other’s eyes widened, Roman’s mom opened her mouth before closing it again.

“Uh- um are you sure sweetie? You look a little worse for wear- I-,”

“Yes. I- I need to leave.”

He moved to stand, his wrist suddenly caught as Logan gripped his wrist.

“No.” Logan said, “You need to stay.”

Patton nodded, “Forever.” He added and Virgil stood, half standing up. His eyes glazed over, his mind blank.

He started shaking, his body uncontrollably vibrating as anguish rose in his chest.

He started sobbing, all harsh breathing and whimpering as he was slowly pulled back to the others, hugged between Logan and Patton.

His watery eyes glanced to where Roman was whispering with his shocked mother, but as Patton fit Virgil’s head into the crook of his neck he let himself not care about that. Not care about the meaning or what would happen if an adult found out.

Not care about every voice that rose in his mind.

Not care about every lie his own self-doubt had fed him since the day he was born.

He could deal with all that later. He’d fight his own demons when he wasn’t being faced down with the idea of safety.

Finally, safety.

“Virgil. you’re staying.” Virgil barely heard Roman’s mom over the sound of his heaving breath, the words only causing more crying as he let himself be held.

He borrowed his face deeper into Patton’s neck, and Logan held him tighter.

“Mm-kay” he got out, his shoulders hunched, his crying devolving into sniffles as Roman finally joined the bunch again, his arms wrapping around all of them, his phone clutched in his right hand.

He was were he needed to be.

_‘Fate doesn’t make mistakes.’_

“My mom said if you were really worried about work you should call in sick,” Virgil felt the familiar words rise to his tongue.

‘I can’t, i can’t afford to miss a day.’

He didn’t say them though, he let his words die on his tongue and nodded his head, holding his hand out for Roman to drop the phone in.

He was too tired to fight. Too willing to let them force the dark parts of his brain back, the parts that told him he had to work himself until he broke every single day.

“Are you sure you want to do it now kiddo? You can wait a moment longer-,”

Virgil shook his head, he was either going to do this now, or never. He couldn’t give himself time to  _think_  about it. Not now.

The phone was placed in his palm, the others pulling away as his fingers shakily dialed.

“This is Strip’s Comic’s how may I-,”

“Allen It’s me.” He said, voice raw from crying.

“Virgil? The hell- You sound awful-,” Virgil rolled his eyes,

“Thanks, I’m- I’m not going to be coming in today…”

Allen sighed, “yeah- I’d hope so, you looked like you might die yesterday.”

Virgil’s eyebrows raised to his hairline,

“Um- you saw… that?” He asked and Allen laughed,

“Yeah dude, you dead sprinted right pass my class with Roman behind you, a few kids noticed that.”

Virgil swallowed, eyes glancing to the others, who had moved a little ways away. They whispered to each other. Trying their best to give Virgil privacy with his phone call.

“What was that about anyway,” Allen asked and Virgil felt something stop in his throat.

“Nothin-,” he stopped looking at the floor as his mind and mouth struggled to agree.

Why lie?

What was the point?

“I- He’s my um- they’re my-,” Virgil took a deep breath, “My soulmates.”

The line was silent for a second, but before Virgil could backpedal, before he could yell at himself for being so stupid Allen spoke again.

“Oh- i thought- Alright, cool. I mean- Cool! I- yeah. I mean you guys look a lot alike i guess it was kind of obvious but-,”

Virgil’s mind halted, “what? We don’t look alike?” He asked and Allen laughed,

“Dude you totally do!”

The pressure in Virgil’s lungs deflated as he laughed.

“Yeah. I- whatever. I’m not coming in today.”

“Yeah dude! soulbond or whatever! Get your fix!”

Virgil smiled eyes glancing back to the other three who had started another cuddle pile.

“Yeah. I think I will.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His mind was telling him, whispering the fact that, technically, he should be devastated. He should be distraught. Screaming, crying. But he isn’t.

Virgil’s body was weighty, limp as he cracked his eye open. Everything warm and fuzzy.

The red splash of Roman’s sash attracted his eyes. The satin pressed into his cheek.

His eyes widened for a moment, working to recover memories from his sleep as the sudden rush of fear made him tense.

Roman’s arm pressed into him a little more securely, melting the tension in his limbs as the events from this week crashed into him.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Roman whispered. His hand stroking Virgil’s back in long movements. The darkly lit room making his eyes flutter closed for a second. Mind threatening to plunge him into sleep again.

Virgil’s eyes glanced over Roman’s shoulder, craning his neck to look over the other’s chest.

His eyes moving to see his mother. The blankets folded around her in her hospital bed. Her body in the same position it always was.

The lights were turned off, the beeping from the heart monitor pulling the silence out of the air.

Virgil let his stiff limbs go lax, his head dropping to Roman’s chest. The other let out an amused puff of air through his nose.

Roman’s face relaxed, a smile on his face, his hands gentle as he pulled Virgil up by the armpits, dragging him till he was able to press his face into the crook of Roman’s neck.

Which he did.

“Hey. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Virgil nodded into the others neck. Too busy curling further into Roman’s warmth to be able to give much of a response.

Roman let his hand trail up under the back of his shirt, the side of Roman’s fist slowly rubbing in circles.

Virgil’s breath evened. His eyes lidding.

“What is-,” Roman’s voice was shocked, his voice pausing as a frown muddied his features. Virgil froze his eyes opening again, his back going rigid as he made to pull away. He arms straightened only for Roman to shush him, rubbing a little bit more firmly till Virgil was back to a pile of goo in his arms. His head safely tucked under the other’s chin.

“You have two scars down your back.” Roman stated, his hand brushing along the thick lines that Virgil  _knew_ , crossed over his shoulder blades.

Virgil shrugged and Roman held him a little tighter.

“I’d like to know. If you would tell me.” Virgil’s mind blanked, the awful moment of pain, and helplessness filling his mind dragging him back in time.

A soft hand brought him back, threading through his hair as Roman rocked a little, side to side.

“You don’t have to, not if you don’t want to.” Roman started.

The words rose in Virgil’s throat. The moment in time so scaring, but he didn’t feel it anymore.

It wasn’t there.

It hadn’t been in some time now.

“No- No I- I want to tell you.” Roman’s arms wrapped around Virgil, holding him more securely to his chest.

“Ri- The um, old bully of mine-,” Virgil began, his arms uncurling from Roman’s sides as he wrapped them around Roman’s shoulders.

Roman gently thumbed over his scars. “They uh, in third grade.” His mind back peddled cropping over every laugh. The close color of a watercolour marker almost brushing on his skin.

The fear palatable as his fist quickly collided with Ricky’s cheek. The fury in Ricky’s eyes as Virgil held his shaking fist in fear. The horror at his own action as he looked up to see Ricky’s face.

The feeling of rough, bruising hands on his arms.

“I-, I.” Virgil’s throat got stuck. The light brush of Roman’s fingertips on his back bringing him back just enough till he realized he wasn’t breathing.

He took a deep breath.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Roman stated, the sincerity in his voice making Virgil swallow.

“No- I- I mean I want too I just.” He pressed his face into the others neck for a second, “I um, they pushed me back into the pipes of the school boiler room.” Virgil said and Roman clutched him, “it… did that to- um- to my- my back.”

Roman inhaled sharply. His breath burning in the back of his throat.

“I am so sorry.” Roman said, his voice choked. Virgil pulled away, eyes wide. The tears pricking the corners of Roman’s eyes made his voice stop in his throat. His eyes glancing over the others face as he reached out to brush the tears away.

“Why-I don’t.” Virgil stuttered out, his voice wavering.

“We could have- I could have done something- if i was there i mean- i,” Roman started and Virgil felt his heart crack.

‘Don’t do that.’

‘Don’t do what I do’

“No- no you, I- don’t blame yourself- I-,”  _that’s just how it always was_.

Virgil’s mouth snapped shut. Knowing that wouldn’t make Roman any happier with the situation.

Virgil leant forward, kissing Roman’s forehead, wrapping his arms around the other and clutching. Hoping to drive away the sadness, even just a little.

“Boys?,” A voice echoed, and daylight from the hallway flooded the room as Roman’s mama cracked the door open.

Virgil pulled back, Roman’s mouth pulled up slightly, pecking him softly on the lips before smiling.

Virgil blushed as Roman turned his head.

“Yes, Mama?” Roman asked, his throat still choked.

“We’ll need to leave if you want to make it to school on time.”

Roman sighed, gripping Virgil’s sides as he pulled. He swung his legs off of the couch, his movements shifting Virgil to be essentially sitting on Roman’s lap.

“Can’t leave the others waiting.” Roman said, hugging Virgil firmly one last time before pulling his arms away.

Virgil smiled, as Roman helped him stand, his arms going to brace against the other as his legs wobbled once before firming.

Virgil let Roman grab their stuff, hauling both their backpacks up in a show of strength. One that was over dramatized since Virgil only had two binders in his pack to begin with.

He walked, following Roman and his mama through the halls of the hospital.

Roman’s mama whispered to him. Virgil’s stomach twisting, the awkward feeling making him slow his pace, pulling back, giving them space as he walked.

He nodded his head to a few of the nurses that he had seen before. Their eyes widening, scanning the people he was with.

Unfamiliar sights to the normal crowd of the coma ward.

Virgil’s head snapped to the side as Roman threw a hand around Virgil’s waist. Virgil yelping as Roman pulled him close.

The weight of another hand on his shoulder had him looking up and away from Roman.

Roman’s mama was looking at him. Kind eyes, hand cool.

Virgil swallowed. The weight of the hand reminding him of everything he’d never had.

She gently pulled away, keeping eye contact with Virgil as she did so. Her hand brushed against his as she handed him a piece of paper.

Virgil struggled to swallow a lump in his throat.

Now he knew what they were whispering about.

The last of the filing was done.

They were now his legal guardians under the soulmate custody law.

Too much.

This was too much.

They were doing too much for him.

His mind flipped over the meaning. The connotations of this piece of paper as he was slowly packed into the car. He stared, his hands tracing along the edges of the paper. His eyes flickering over the words again and again.

He wasn’t alone.

The ache of coming home to a cold house, before getting ready to work a six hour shift was suddenly dissipated.

And what did he have to give them for it.

What did he have to give them in return.

His eyes pulled away, looking up to see Roman smiling at him. The other’s face twitching a little as he looked into Virgil’s eyes.

“I know that face.” Roman said quietly, “what’s wrong?” Virgil shrugged, and Roman frowned. The look making Virgil’s heart fall. His soul reaching out to fix the damage he didn’t mean to do.

Roman rose his hand extending a pinkie to Virgil. “Pinkie promise, you’ll tell me later?”

Virgil smiled, his head shaking a little as he hooked their pinkies.

“Later. I’ll- Yeah, I’ll tell you later.” Virgil nodded. His hand dropping, eyes pulling away for the mere second that he needed to register that they were pulling up at the school.

His head turned, eyes landing on Logan and Patton who were standing outside the entrance, waiting for them.

Waiting for him.

His heart filled as they pulled up, Patton waving vigorously as Logan smiled.

Virgil waved back, his eyes looking over them one more time as he turned to grab his backpack from the back.

Patton was there suddenly, gripping Virgil’s hand, as Logan and Roman started talking about something. Together, they walked towards the building.

Virgil hesitating at the door.

His body halting. Patton turning his head to look at him. Virgil’s face twitched, giving the other a half smile that had Patton tilting his mouth. Patton pulled at his hand the force urging him up the steps.

He walked forward, body hunching through the doorway, hand twitching to pull his hood up.

Virgil sighed at himself, mind yelling at him. There was nothing to be worried about. Logically he knew that he wasn’t doing anything that warranted shame.

Ten years of hiding would tell him differently.

He let the others lead him through the hallways, Patton’s smile as warm as always, Roman’s side slotted against Virgil’s, his arm around Virgil’s shoulders as he talked.

He fit.

Inexplicably.

The cramped area he had looked at, he had longed after for so long. It had expanded.

The area he could never see himself in had moved to fit him.

The warmth in his chest made him press into the others. The occasional confused glance dispelled, turning away faster than Virgil’s mind had told him.

The catastrophic scenarios that played in his head never came to pass, and as they pulled away to go to each of their classes, Virgil felt he had enough warmth to last the day.

**Scribbles**

Virgil had fallen into his routine. His body moving on autopilot until Patton was looping their arms together.

Virgil jumped, his heart pounding in his chest until the other’s face came into view.

“Where are you going?” Patton asked and Virgil paused his mind running through the words.

“Uh- the library,” Patton frowned and Virgil felt himself backtrack. His mind screaming at him to fix whatever he had said. His mind was cut off, eyes widening as the other yanked him a different way.

“It’s lunch, why don’t you eat with us?” Virgil felt the panic rise in his chest.

He didn’t have a lunch.

His smile was tight as he let the other pull him, his mind running through excuses that melted under the press of the others body against his side.

The panic was palatable. It might not leave but he could work with it, work through it.

The lunch room was loud, the sound of everyone talking was echoing around the room.

Virgil’s eyes scoped around, the tiles and lights clashing as students romped around, running and talking.

Roman was already sitting at a table waving them both over as he saw them walking. Patton waved back, pulling on Virgil’s arm as he yanked him forward.

“Alrighty!” Patton said loudly, basically throwing Virgil on the bench next to Roman as he placed his bag on the table. His hand moving to unzip it, his body bouncing in place a little.

“Here’s yours,” Patton said, handing Roman a bagged lunch decorated in doodles with red marker.

“Logan’s for when he gets back,” he stated putting a doctor who lunchbox down in front of the spot beside him.

“Oh, mine!” He said pulling out a cat lunch box, “and here’s yours Virgil!” He pulled out another bagged lunch, he slid it in front of Virgil. the doodles of clouds and stars made his eyes water.

“Um- thank- thanks.” Virgil said, another fear dispelled as Patton beamed.

His eyes glanced to the side to see Roman had already opened his lunch. Patton happily pointing to and commenting on each food he had put in Roman’s bag. Patton’s arms flailing as he gestured and explained why he put each item in.

Virgil watched for a moment, eyes soft and body relaxed. His eyes moved down, his hands carefully pulling out the staples in the bag, as he tried to preserve the pictures.

“Sorry for my delay, i did not expect there to be a line for the water.” Logan said, circling around the table with a large water bottle in his hand.

He sharply extended his the bottle out toward Virgil. Virgil jumped, his eyes widened, hand hesitantly floating in front of the object before unsurely making eye contact with Logan.

“It’s a calorie shake. It’ll help you gain weight. Roman’s mother suggested them. You’re supposed to drink one a day.” Logan stated and Virgil let his hand fold around the bottle.

Logan pulled away, slipping into the seat next to Patton.

Virgil popped a cracker from a ziplock bag into his mouth. Opening the thermos of soup as he went.

“If you have any digestive or stomach issues we need to know. We want to keep an eye on that for any medical emergencies,”

Virgil blushed ducking his head and nodding as he poked the straw of the bottle in his mouth. The chocolate taste of the calorie shake filling his mouth.

“Hey Virgil!” A voice yelled. Virgil snapped his head away from them, almost inhaling some of the shake as he went. Allen basically ran up to their table, “er- and you guys too i guess.” He said with a shrug, “You’re not going to believe this- well I mean i totally called it but I know what you’re like so- anyway- one of your essay things was found by some kind of scouter or something!” He bounced flailing his arms a little. “He like, interrupted my English class so he could pull Mrs. Deller and ask her who you were!”

Virgil felt his cheeks heat up, Patton’s hands excitedly clapping together with a squeal as Roman’s face lit up.

“Well, i suppose this calls for a celebration?” Logan stated unsurely looking to the other two and Patton’s high pitched noise was turned on him as he started shoving against the others arm in excitement.

“I- what.” Virgil asked and Allen nodded.

“Right!”

“Well this calls for another trip to the Cedar Cafe!” Roman said and Allen’s face fell his eyebrows knitting together.

Virgil’s eyes snapped back and forth from Allen to Roman his smile falling a little.

“Oh, I don’t know. If you remember-,” Roman began as Allen’s mouth fell open,

“Isn’t that the place across the street from Strip’s?” Allen asked and the other three blinked before glancing back at Virgil.

Virgil hunched, face pulling back in a grimace.

“Strip’s” Logan asked, “the comic shop across the street from Cedar Cafe?”

“Yeah, we work there!” Allen said, “anyway, I have a date with a sushi roll so, see you.” Allen patted Virgil’s back, walking off as the others looked at Virgil.

He was half hoping the whole stalking think wouldn’t ever have to be brought up.

Silly him for thinking things could just roll smoothly.

Besides who was he to keep that from them. They deserved to know how creepy he was if they were going to be together for this moment on.

“I um- you guys go there a lot and- I- I” He slumped, “I watched- you- i watched you guys-“ his words sped up,his voice raising in pitch as he went. “I’m so- I’m so so sorry- I know it was- really really creepy- I just-,”

Patton’s hand came up to hold Virgil’s cheek, making his words stop.

“Oh kiddo,” he sighed and Roman folded him in closer, wrapping his arm around Virgil’s waist.

“To think you were always so close and we never knew it,” Logan mumbled.

“Oh!” Patton face palmed dragging his hand down his face before pointing at Virgil. “You were always at our events.” Virgil blushed shrugging.

“You saved the performance that will make my acting career,” Roman said, and the they all went quiet. Virgil letting himself be pulled to the side, pressing into Roman.

“All this time, I can’t help but wonder- why didn’t you say anything Virgil?” Logan began and Virgil’s eyes connected with the table, absently sipping at the calorie shake again.

“I-I didn’t think- I thought you guys wouldn’t like me.” Virgil said simply.

Simplifying years of turmoil into a sentence.

Days spent staring and wondering, worried about slotting himself in places he couldn’t fit, thoughts full of paranoia about becoming an obligation rather than a partner.

His mind wrapped around to his original thoughts, the idea that fate chose him because it knew he would never approach them.

That his role as a soulmate was to sit and bask.

He summed it up, because how could he begin to tell them all that?

“What?” Patton asked, his voice heavy.

“But- we’re soulmates.” Roman stated and Logan’s eyes slowly widened.

“I know I- I just don’t know.” Virgil said letting himself slump over the table.

“Virgil- we’ll need to talk about this more- I’d recommend with a qualified professional- therapist maybe. I don’t think- we- We’ll deal with it later.” Logan finally said just as Virgil’s breath had started to speed up. Logan reached his hand out to brush Virgil’s hair out of his face. “Eat, we’ll- work on it together. Later.”

Virgil smiled, his hand tracing along the outside of the thermos before tipping some of the soup into the lid.

Patton smiled wide as Virgil ate, and Roman reached over the table to ruffle the others hair.

**Scribbles**

Virgil’s hand soaked in the warmth of the coffee cup, the small platter of baked goods in front of them. Patton would filch pieces from it, turning to press them to Virgil’s lips until Virgil relented, allowing the other to feed him bites by hand.

Virgil’s face was warm from where the sunlight pressed against it, Roman’s laughter filled the cafe as Logan leaned against him.

Virgil smiled.

“So what was your writing about?” Patton asked making Virgil turn to him eyes widened in surprise as his eyes flickered around the room

“Uh…”.

It seemed so long ago. So much had happened since then, the subject matter seemed so far away now.

The emotions he felt out of touch in a way that was surprising and almost relieving.  

“Mmmm- Myself? Kind of.” Virgil said with a shrug and Patton smiled at him,

“Like your life story?” Patton asked and Virgil paused, his shoulders falling as he stared at the table in front of him.

“More- More like- Emotions- Like emotions I guess?” Virgil finished, “No one wants to hear my life story.” Virgil said, his throat breaking with a nervous chuckle.

“I beg to differ!” Roman said, joining the conversation with a boisterous voice.

Logan adjusted his glasses, “Actually Roman is right. The kind of emotional complex situations you have faced over your life would make for a rather popular story.”

Virgil blushed, his shoulders lifting and falling in a deep shrug.

“I don’t know.” Virgil stated and Patton just lightly tapped his nose.

“awww, that’s okay! I was just wondering if you would let us read it!” Patton began making Virgil’s eyes widen, “I would love to see the writing that got a scout in such a tizzy!”

“I- They- I mean they weren’t- most likely in a ‘tizzy’ I just- I guess they- I don’t know.” Virgil’s tongue tripped over itself enough times to make him shut up. Mouth snapping closed.

Logan frowned, eyes glancing up and down Virgil.

“I was wondering about that- your stuttering I mean.” Logan stated.

Virgil looked at Logan, his eyes discouraged, shoulders pulled inward.

“I know- Its- It’s annoying- I just- I’ve tried to stop I swear- I- I never…” He trailed off, voice betraying him once more.

“No! No kiddo, we don’t mind it! I think it’s kinda cute actually,” Patton smiled, wrapping both of his arms around Virgil’s arm.

“Your speech pattern is underdeveloped. What age did your father die?” Virgil glanced at Logan eyebrows raising just a little. His eyes trailed to the side.

“Um… I was four or five.” he said, eyes snapping back to look at the other.

“I see, and your mother when did she become sick?”

Virgil hesitated.

Another sob story. Another unnecessary thing they need to feel guilty about in his life. Another dark cloud hanging over them.

He couldn’t tell them that. He couldn’t tell them the truth about that.

‘Why not?’

Why not tell them. Their eyes all focused on his. Patton pressing into his side, Logan’s patients being showcased in the still, unperturbed way he was sitting. Roman idly stirring his drink, slightly slouched over the table like he was ready and willing to wait all day.

Why lie?

“She got- she wasn’t- It wasn’t really sickness.” Virgil started and Roman’s eyes glanced around in confusion. Logan nodding his head for the other to continue.

“She was- after dad died- she couldn’t- but it wasn’t her fault she was just so sad so she- she drank. A lot.” Patton’s grip tightened as he pulled Virgil a little closer to himself.

“Virgil- She didn’t…hurt you did she?” Patton asked and Virgil shook his head vigorously.

“No- she just-…” Virgil trailed off. Mind filling with every unattended injury she never cared about. Every night she had passed out on the couch. Every day he walked to elementary school because she was too unconscious for him to be able to wake her up.

Every day he was forgotten somewhere. Every night she would promise things that she could never deliver.

“She just- she tried her best. She gave her all to- to work- to get through the- through the tragedy.” He told himself that again.

He told himself that every night.

“Well.” Logan said, clearing his throat. “I- Your speech pattern was likely affected by your environment.” Logan stated, “you most likely didn’t get enough practice in speaking as a child.”

Virgil shrugged. That sounded just about right.

“Yeah- I mean with the- yeah,” Virgil said his head tilting as he nodded. “Yeah.” He stated once more, sighing as he did so.

“Well, that’s easily fixable. Unlike with a speech impediment there isn’t much to work on. We just need to give you the practice you need in terms of speaking.”

Virgil’s lips quirked up, and he nodded.

“Sounds good.”

Roman’s eyes widened, his head craning around the others to look outside the window.

Virgil turned around, Roman’s mom running up the steps of the cafe.

She sprinted to their table, gesturing for them to leave.

“Emergency.” Was all she said and they were all up, crumpled bills thrown on the table and jackets collected.

Patton held tight to Virgil, all of them following in Roman’s moms sprint pace as they piled in the car.

His mom flooring it out of the parking lot and moving to go the quickest way to the highway.

“Uh! Mom! What’s going on!” Roman said, and Virgil’s body ridged under Patton’s touch. Roman’s mother glanced at them, making brief eye contact with Virgil through the rear-view mirror before she sighed, looking back onto the road.

“Virgil- Your mom is in critical condition. Her liver is fully shutting down.”

Virgil’s heart stopped in his chest.

His mind fuzzing up as the others glanced at him, mouths slightly open.

**Scribbles**

Virgil’s mind was blank as he watched the doctors run around, yelling about clotting and sticking needles into her.

“We were just here.” He stated. His voice monotone. “This morning we were here. She- she was fine she-,”

“I know sweetie.” Roman’s mama pulled Virgil back. The movement yanked his eyes away from the window of the room just as he the monitor turned from a sporadic zig zag to a flat line.

She helped him settle in a chair. A spot one or two down from where the others were sitting. Sympathetic looks making him cringe.

He didn’t want that.

He didn’t need that right now. He didn’t need that ever.

The blinding white of the hallway blurred the edges of his vision. His mind was frozen. His heart was numb.

Or- more like it wasn’t numb.

It wasn’t anything.

His mind was telling him, whispering the fact that, technically, he should be devastated. He should be distraught.

Screaming, crying.

But he isn’t.

The emptiness of the house was full now.

His nights not plagued by the hum of the tv. The scent of alcohol washed out of all his clothing.

He should be upset.

She tried so hard, but it wasn’t enough.

She self destructed so much harder than she loved him.

His stomach hurt with hunger more times than she had filled it.

Her eyes stared at him blankly more times than they ever did lovingly.

Her death was a relief, and if that didn’t make him feel guilty as all hell.

“Virgil?” Virgil turn his head, the voice barely breaking through his inner dialog. His eyes came back into focus slowly, making eye contact with Patton who had sat on the chair directly next to him. “How you feeling kiddo?”

There was a beat.

A second of silence

Then, Virgil burst into tears. His heart was weighty and full but not for the loss of his mother. Not for the person he was supposed to have some innate connection with, no. He was crying out the pain of the last ten years.

The decade weighing off him as he cried, tipping forward, face pressing against Patton’s shoulder as the other instantly curled around him.

Patton was rocking, back and forth, the plastic chairs tilting with their bodies as he hushed him.

His mother was gone.

There were no more bills to pay.

No one to worry about every day for the rest of his life.

She was gone, and it was  _awful_. The respite he found in those words made him sick, but it was there.

Every breath he inhaled was lighter but the guilt weighed in his stomach.

“She- she wanted to- she wanted to die.” He said, telling himself more than Patton.

Heart turning and buckling as it turned the information over.

She wanted to die more than she loved him.

He cried. The warmth of Roman’s body pressed into his back as he pulled Virgil from the chair, before settling Virgil on his chest.

He hummed clutching him there as Patton and Logan squeezed in on the other sides of him. Patton gently running his hand through Virgil’s hair as Logan gripped one of Virgil’s hands in his own.

As Roman gently sung to him, Virgil felt as if everything would be okay.

Even if it’s not right now, or today. Even if it’s not soon.

He loved them more than he hated himself, and he could work with that.


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil closed the last of the envelopes. All the paper carefully decorated with his, rather, roughly done calligraphy.

Virgil closed the last of the envelopes. All the paper carefully decorated with his, rather, roughly done calligraphy.

All of them, except one, who’s paper was unmarked except for a the words printed on a small flat business card.

He pulled his body, tilting to lean against the back of his chair as a small smile graced the corners of his mouth. A smudge of chocolate smeared there from where Patton insisted on feeding him samples from over twelve cakes.

Virgil swears that man is doing all he can to make him fat.

He carefully penned the last letter, his wrist a little achy from the writing, and, yeah, maybe he shouldn’t be doing this at the same time as the other letters but he felt this was needed.

He and the others turned 18 next year, which meant the most important milestone for soulmates.

The wedding.

He had penned over a hundred envelopes, addressing letters to Logan, Patton and Roman’s family, extended family, and extended families family.

Moms, grandfathers, eighth cousin’s five times removed, they were all coming.

The pain of being poly soulmates: everyone wants to bask in their ‘happy ending’.

Of course, Virgil didn’t really have a family to invite, not by any conventional definition of ‘family’ at least.

Which is why he wanted this job out of all the other things he could have done to help with the wedding.

Among the stacks and stacks of envelopes, a handful was put to the side.

Virgil’s family.

A letter extended to Benny, to Mrs. Higgs, and Jamie as well as Jamie’s soulmate (if they were both willing to fly in from france that is,) he extended an invitation to Allen and even Mrs. Graves.

He wrote one to Fred, who was happy for him and had apologized with a sincerity that Virgil hadn’t realized he had needed.

One to delicately place at his mother’s grave when he went there next sunday.

The last one, wasn’t an invitation.

Writing a wedding invitation to someone without a soulmate would just be cruel in Virgil opinion. He wouldn’t have wanted one and he doubted Ricky needed one either.

But for lack of anything else to say, with the need to say something crushing down on him, he did pen out a single sentence.

“Ask for C.C.” the back of the card holding the address of Black Burns.

Virgil placed the card gently in the envelope, his hands steady and firm as he closed it.

This would be the first letter sent.

He stood smiling, twirling his pen in his hand and pulling open the door to see the chaos waiting for him.

Roman on the phone yelling about how the flowers weren’t red enough, Logan at the table pouring over the cost of all of this, while Patton was laying on the floor, having tried so many cake samples that, all together, had probably added up to a full sized cake.

Logan looked up at hearing him enter the room. A helpless smile gracing his lips as he shrugged, and Virgil laughed.

“Oh, the first copy of your book arrived,” Logan said, gesturing to the mailing envelope sitting on the table.

Virgil’s heart was suddenly in his throat, his body moving a little faster than necessary to get at the folder. He picked it up, hand automatically going to rip off the top only to hesitate.

“Logan we’re adding premium roses! I cannot deal with this!” Roman yelled hanging up on whoever was on the other line, Logan sighed turning to face the other.

“Do you really need all the decorations to be so elabor-,”

“OF COURSE I DO! This is our special night I will not have anything ruining it!”

Virgil smiled, as Logan turned back to him rolling his eyes.

“Did you take your medicine?” Logan asked.

“Of course, it’s been helping a lot.” Virgil said, Logan smiled nodding his head.

“The dose is working?” He asked and Virgil nodded back.

“I think we got it this time.” He said and Logan gave him an awkward thumbs up as Virgil moved back. Taking his mail placing Ricky’s letter on the ‘out’ mail bowl as he re-entered his office.

The weight of the book in his hand as he sat back down, spinning the chair as he stared at the black ink on the envelope.

The weight in his hands was surreal, and Virgil wished, not for the first time, that he had the ability to go back in time.

To grip first grade Virgil by the shoulders and yell at him,

“You’re still here! And believe me it is worth it!”

He tore off the top of the envelope. The flash of colour making his heart flutter as he tipped the package. The book sliding into his hand, the dark purple cover filling his eyes.

The pads of his fingers brushed along the edges of the book, and he thumbed at the raised text of the title,

‘Scribbles: an autobiography’

Virgil spun the pen around in his grip once more, before he pulled the tip down to draw a small heart on the taught flesh where his thumb met his wrist.

**The End**


End file.
